


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




0001.3773b3H 




Class E- 4 H' 3 _ 
Book ,K34-S1- 



\^ \3-^b 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District 

of Pennsylvania. 



Transfer from 
U. S. Soldier s Home Uby. 
Oct.28,l93X 



THE 

FENIlSrSULA.R 

CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA, 



OR 



INCIDENTS AND SCENES 



ON 



THE BATTLE-FIELDS AND IN RICHMOND. 



BY 



Bev. J. J. MAEKS, D. D 



KIFTH EDITIOir. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

1864, 



TO 



SamttH .Small, dpsq., 



OP YORK, PENNSYLVANIA, 



THIS WORK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 



AS A MARK OF ESTEEM AND AFFECTION FOR ONE WHO DESERVES THE 
HIGHEST PLACE IN THE REGARDS OF THE AUTHOR FOR MANV 
ACTS OF FRIENDSHIP AND HOSPITALITY SHOWN HIM WHEN 
A STRANGER ; BUT MORE ESPECIALLY TO GIVE VOICE 
TO THE GRATITUDE OF THOUSANDS FOR A CHARITY 
MOST MUNIFICENT AND UNCEASING, WHICH 
HAS SOLACED AND COMFORTED MULTI- 
TUDES OF OUR SOLDIERS, DISABLED 
AND WOUNDED IN THE SER- 
VICE OF THEIR COUNTRY. 



JAMES J. MARKS. 



PREFACE. 



This work is given to the public with many misgivings, 
for it has been prepared by camp-fires, in the midst of hos- 
pital labors and marches on the Rappahannock, in the moun- 
tains of Virginia, and under the pressure of exhausting du- 
ties. The author has had no time for retirement, for con- 
sultation of authorities, or trimming away excrescences and 
redundancies. He is, therefore, painfully conscious of a 
thousand defects and blemishes, which are the consequences 
of hasty preparation. 

He might never have obtruded himself upon the notice of 
more than a few too partial friends, had not disease, induced 
by exposure, compelled his leaving the army in the field ; and 
urged to the efi"ort by many companions in tribulation, he 
could not resist the temptation to gather from his portfolio 
the fragmentary memorials of a never-to-be-forgotten cam- 
paign. Encouraged by the approbation of many friends, he 
has given to the world the memories of those days. 

He has been prompted to this, in part, from the desire to 
show to the country the gratitude due to the noble Army of 
the Potomac, by the record of its labors and sufi"erings. He 
likewise hoped to contribute one or more leaves to the history 
yet to be written, — for, in this early twilight, no man is able to 
1* (v) 



Vi PEEFACE. 

write a history of the Peninsular campaign worthy of the 
name. Time is a great teacher ; and every year, for the next 
quarter of a century, will break the seals of mystery, and dis- 
close the hidden causes of movements which for a long time 
mocked our curiosity, and eluded our research. He has not, 
therefore, had the presumption to attempt to write the history 
of that celebrated campaign, but has aimed rather to give 
personal impressions, and to record the scenes and events of 
which he was the witness. 

In the haste of such compilation he may have made 
criticisms too sweeping, and seemingly too severe, as is inti- 
mated by my excellent friend. Dr. Swinburne ; but let it be 
remembered that no man's vices in the army are pushed into 
such an odious and unendurable prominence as those of a 
self-indulgent, intemperate, and heartless surgeon. No one 
endures more, and perils more, than the faithful surgeon. 
The author cannot but hope that all who read his work 
will do him the justice to believe that, if he has spoken too 
severely, it has been because cases of shameless neglect of 
duty have forced themselves upon his notice ; but for no class 
of men does he entertain profounder respect, and sincerer 
friendship, than for those surgeons who made it their constant 
eflfort to relieve the miseries of sickness, and to heal by all 
the resources of their art, and humane attentions, the wounds 
received in battle. 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction Pa&e ix 

CHAPTER I. 

Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many Virginia 
Families — Fairfax Seminary — Bishop Meade ... 21 

CHAPTER II. 

Encampment on the Farm of George Mason, Esq. — Character of this 
Man — Appearance of the Country — General Desolation — The Dis- 
cipline of the Camp — General .Jameson — Mrs. Jameson — The Daily 
Life of the Army — Personal Influence of Officers. 2S 

CHAPTER III. 

The Chaplain and his Duties — Distribution of Books — Religious Ser- 
vices — The Obstacles to Success — No Protection nor assigned Duties 
— Treatment of the Chaplains by many Officers — The Tendencies 
of Military Law 44 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Revival — Gloom and Discontent from Inaction — Tent for Public 
Worship — Dedication Scene — The Soldier alone with his Mother — 
The Formation of a Camp Church — Progress of the Revival — Letter 
of Mansfield Brown, Esq 58 

CHAPTER V. 

Scenes in the Neighborhood of Mount Vernon — The Quakers — Their 
Loyalty — The Washington Family, and Traditions of General Wash- 
ington — The Lewis Estate — Our Pickets in that Neighborhood — The 
Old Church of Washington at Pohick — The various Great Estates in 
that Neighborhood — A Woman's Revenge. 67 

(Yii) 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Slaves — Their Condition — Story of Hanson Yerly 89 

CHAPTER VII. 

Embarkation for the Peninsula — Fortress Monroe — Early Discoveries 

— Description of the Country and its Wealth — Fight between the 
Merrimac and Monitor — Excitement and Terror at the Fortress Ill 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Fortress Monroe — The Ruins of Hampton — The Scene attending its 
Destruction — The Assembling of the Grand Army of the Potomac 
on the Plains of Hampton — The Novelty and Splendor of the 
Spectacle — March upon Yorktown 127 

CHAPTER IX. 

Yorktown — Memorials of the Revolution — Antiquities — General 
Porter's Balloon Ascension and Discoveries — Colonel Samuel Black 

— His Character 140 

CHAPTER X. 

Retreat of the Enemy — The Torpedoes left in the Streets, and around 
Wells — The Sick left behind — The Hospitals created — Night Scene 
in the Forest — Captain W. Brown 147 

CHAPTER XI. 

Battle of Williamsburg — Attack of Hooker — Bravery of Kearney — 
The Dead Soldier in the Road — Williamsburg — Its Historic Monu- 
ments — William and Mary College — A Negro compelled to Dig his 
own Grave — A Conversation with a Duellist 156 

CHAPTER XII. 

Second Visit to Yorktown — Scene in the Prison — Hunt for the Army 
on Return — Crossing the Chickahomiuy — Sick at Baltimore Cross- 
roads — Interview with General Kearney — Letter from the General... 170 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Battle of Pair Oaks — Dash of General Longstreet on General Casey's 
Division — Severity of the Contest — Severe Losses of some Regiments 

— Scene on Saturday night at Savage Station — Conversation with 

the Wounded and Dying — The Battle of Sunday Morning 187 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER XIV. 

General Stuart's Cavalry Raid — Wild Commotion on the Pamunky — 
Hospital at Carter's House — Arrival of General Franklin's Troops — 
Mr. Alvord's Labors 213 

CHAPTER XV. 

Commencement of the Seven Days' Battles — Second Battle of Fair 
Oaks, on Wednesday, June 25th — Battle of Mechanicsville, on Thurs- 
day, June 26th — Battle of Gainesville, on Friday, June 27th — Scenes 
amongst the Wounded at Savage Station — Narrow Escape of Rev. 
Mr. Dickson — Mr. Brunot, of Pittsburg — Dr. Swinburne, of Albany.. 221 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Sunday, June 29th. 

Consternation and Alarm in the Hospital — Scene at Savage Station — 
The drawing in of our Pickets — The Destruction of our Military and 
Commissary Stores — The Burning Train — The Grand Appearance 
of Sumner's Rear-guard — Battle of Savage Station 236 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Monday Morning, June ZQth. 

Silence of the Morning after the Battle — The Rebel Soldier reconnoi- 
tring — The Surrender of the Hospitals — Refusal of German Marines 
to surrender — German Soldier at Meadow Station — Peril of Chaplain 
Sloan — Conversation with a Confederate OflQcer, Captain Taylor, of 
New Kent 258 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Monday, June 30th. 

March of the Army from Savage Station — Guns left behind — Frequent 
halts for return of Scouts — Movements of the Enemy — Crossing 
White Oak Swamp — Uncertainty of every Step — The relief — Night 
firing — Position of our Army on Monday — Battle of White Oak 
Swamp — Exciting Scenes 271 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Malvern Hill. 

The Preparations for the Battle — The Scene — The Imposing Grandeur 
of the Spectacle — Commencement of the Action — Consternation and 
Panic of the Confederates — Scene at the Hospital 288 



X CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER XX. 

Thursday, July Zd. 

Report of Dr. Skelton from the Battle-field— Visit to the Sick at White 
Oak Swamp— Visit to the Battle-field of Glendale— Condition of the 
Confederate Army — Nolan, the Singer — Lonely Night Kide 302 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Sabbath, July 6th. 

Return to the Hospitals in the Battle-fields — Captain Reed and his son 
William — Visit from the Rev. Mr. Moore, of Richmond — The Dead 
Soldiers — The Hospital in the Willis Church — Dr. Marsh — Visit to 
the Hospital of Dr. Donnelly — Adjutant 0. H. Gaither — Conversa- 
sation with an Irish officer 326 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Removal of Mr. Brunot and Volunteer Nurses to Richmond — Funeral 
at Carter's House — Soldier's Conversation with Stonewall Jackson.. 352 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Removal of the Sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station to Rich- 
mond — The Confederate Commissary's Criticisms on our Generals — 
The removal of seven hundred and fifty of our Wounded to Rich- 
mond on the 13th July — Scenes in the Streets — Libby Prison 365 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Night Scene and Conversation in Libby Prison — Nolan and his Song 

— Scene at the Dep8t, July 16th — Feeding the Hungry — German 
Charity 391 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Sufi'ering in Prison — Captain Demming — Death of Adjutant Gaither — 
Heroism of Warburton — Haversack of the Dead Soldier — Deathless 
Love — Sergeant Abbey 416 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The continuance of Scenes in Libbj' Prison — Orders to depart from 
Richmond — Scenes on Saturday Morning — Petersburg — Major Ker 

— Conversation at the Dep6t — Journey to City Point — Infamous 
Conduct of an United States Surgeon — Joy of the Prisoners — Re- 
port to General Kearney — His Character — Conclusion 424 

Appendix , 443 



INTEODUCTION. 



" Write," says my friend, the author, " an introduction to 
my book." This request, coming to me, as it did, from a 
gentleman whose good qualities of head and heart I learned, 
during my campaign on the Peninsula, to love, and whose 
self-sacrificing patriotism was admired by all who came within 
the influence of his presence, addresses me with the most po- 
tent influences urging me to compliance. And yet what shall 
I write ? Can I improve upon the work itself ? Can aught 
that I may say render more valuable, or even aid to call atten- 
tion to, the truthful descriptions, interesting incidents, and 
really valuable contents of the book ? These questions have 
naturally suggested themselves to my mind ) and at all times 
negative answers have been forced upon me. And yet, per- 
Jiaps I may say something to add to the interest which a pe- 
rusal of " The Peninsular Campaign; or, Incidents and Scenes 
on the Battle-fields and in Richmond," must everywhere in- 
cite in the glorious cause of the battle of freedom against re- 
bellion, anarchy, and tyranny, which is now shaking our whole 
country, North and South, as with the throes of an earth- 
quake; and upon the hopes of this, perhap)s induced mostly by 
love for my friend, and anxiety for the cause of our country, 
I was led to attempt to comply with the request of Dr. Marks. 

The rebellion of the so-called "Confederate States" against 
the United States Grovernment has brought with it an era in 
the progress of our country upon which historians, for ages 
to come, will write, and yet fail to exhaust the subject. But 
in no instance will any history be so valued as those coming 
from men who were participants in the scenes their willing 

( xi) 



xii INTRODUCTION. 

pens depict. And it may be remarked, too, tliat the truth- 
fulness and value of any history of this rebellion will depend 
upon the near or remote degree in which the writer was re- 
lated to, or participated in, the scenes, views, and incidents 
he assumes to describe. In this view, this book will go down 
to posterity as a most valued and truthful, as it is now the 
most interesting, history of an important period in this con- 
test, which has found no lukewarm spectators within the sec- 
tions of country now claimed by, or allied to, either of the 
contending parties. This history of the Peninsular campaign 
will be sought for by the inhabitants especially of the Eastern, 
Middle, and Western States, with greater avidity than that 
of any other portion of the history of this rebellion, for the 
reasons that its brilliant commencement sent electric thrills 
of highest hope through the heart of every truly loyal man 
of the North and West ; its progress so tedious, for causes 
now known to but few outside the pale of the chiefs of the 
military departments of our Government (but which will, of 
course, be developed by the future historian), for months kept 
the hearts of the people of those districts in an agony of anxious 
suspense, impelling them frequently to heap upon the Govern- 
ment, and the" officers in command of our forces, scathing 
criticisms and bitter imprecations ; and its whole history was 
marked by the loss of the lives of thousands upon thousands 
of men, whose memories " will be green" in the hearts of 
their relatives, friends, and descendants in the North and 
West for ages to come. 

These losses, occurring as they did not alone by the rav- 
ages of " grim-visaged war," in their usual phases, but in 
numerous instances by want of care, disease, pestilence, and 
almost famine, in the camp and hospital, upon the roads and in 
the field, struck home to the hearts of the friends of the victims 
with more awful and grief-bearing effect than would have been 
the case had the news been brought to theii that their relatives 
had died on the field, while nobly fighting against the enemies 
of the " good old flag," which has, for over eighty years past, 



INTRODUCTION. Xlll 

over all tlic^^^orld, been recognized a;; tlie emblem of free- 
dom, and if?^ even now the ensign of tbe noblest nation of tlie 
earth ; ensiirMtd^; i^ is true, in tlie darkening, damning palls 
of civil war, yet looked upon, revered, and respected by tbe 
people of all otter countries as the brightest star in the con- 
stellation of the universe of nations. 

This awful destruction of life outside the usual course of 
war has been attributed, by friends and supporters of the dif- 
ferent parties of the country, and by the followers of different 
officers of the Government, to as many different causes as there 
have been parties and officers interested or implicated in the 
matter. Many of the alleged causes are truthful, to a certain 
extent, but all of them are overdrawn ; and very many more 
are entirely unfounded, disgraceful to those charging them, 
and only arising out of the evident desire of their supporters 
to heap unwarranted contumely upon the Government, or the 
officers by them arraigned; and that^ too, with a design thereby 
to further the still more evident and grossly treasonable in- 
tent to hinder the Govermnent in the speedy and siiccesa/ul 
prosecution of the loar, and thus give aid and comfort to the 
enemy in such a covert manner as to shield the authors from 
the penalties of open treason. 

Foremost among these assigned causes (and the only cause 
which the profession of the writer will justify him in discuss- 
ing to any extent) has been the alleged inefficiency in the con- 
duct of the medical department of the service during this 
campaign. It will be recollected that the celebrated Dr. Trip- 
ler, an old army surgeon, whose most valuable works upon 
military surgery have justly attained a fame as world-wide as 
the subject itself, was Medical Director of the Army of the 
Potomac at that time. It has been charged that, by reason 
of his neglectj the Army of the Peninsula was left without 
many things which were absolutely requisite for the proper 
administration of the medical department of that army; and 
that thus the soldiers, worn out by the fatigues of the march, 
2 



xiv INTEODUCTION. 

weakened by exposure to severe storms, and the dangerous 
miasmas of the swamps, and brought down to the hospital by 
disease, were literally allowed to die from want of these neces- 
saries, when they could have been promptly obtained at any 
time, as it is said, upon proper call. This charge, it has oc- 
curred to me, is grossly unjust to one whose highest aim in 
life has been to serve his country faithfully, and make him- 
self a useful and a shining ornament to the glorious profession 
he has adopted, and a lasting benefit to the human race. The 
office and duties of a faithful surgeon, even in civil life, is no 
sinecure; and when a surgeon of noblest mind and purest 
purpose, impelled by love of country, has chosen to abandon 
even the emoluments to be derived from the practice of his 
profession as a civilian, and is willing, for the paltry pittance 
allowed by Government, to assume the responsibilities and 
devote his utmost energies to the duties of Medical Director 
of an army so large as that over which Dr. Tripler had charge, 
it seems to me that even the pardonable anxiety of the friends 
of those dying under his charge is not excusable for a viola- - 
tion toward him of the ordinary rules of charity which are, in 
the " Book of Books," laid down for our conduct toward aU 
men. It has been made apparent to me, as well by the decla- 
rations of men who were in position to know the facts, as by 
my own experience in the matter, that the lack of proper ma- 
terials in the medical service of the army, at that time, was 
caused, not by the neglect of Dr. Tripler to call for them at 
the proper places under Government, but by the failure or 
inability of the Government to supply the articles he ordered. 
In my own experience in the Peninsular campaign, many 
incidents of which are referred to in this work, by the author, 
in terms of praise which have afforded me the most ample 
and gratifying reward for all I there endured, I found it at 
all times difficult to obtain a sufficient supply of many mate- 
rials which were absolutely necessary for the proper care and 
cure of the sick and wounded, and, in fact, I was many times 
utterly unable to obtain articles most needed ; and yet I have 



INTRODUCTION. XT 

had the most convincing proof that the Medical Director can- 
not be justly held responsible for this. The fault, I am con- 
vinced, laid nearer to the Government at Washington. To 
my mind the Surgeon-general (superior officer to the Medical 
Director) having the means at hand at Washington for ascer- 
taining, if he did not know, the proportions of war the cam- 
paign was assuming, — and knowing, as he must have known, 
the size of the army, the dangers by which that army were 
beset from the effects of the climate, the character of the coun- 
try, and the probabilities of battle, — was in duty bound to 
see that all necessary material was provided for the medical 
department of the service ; and it would be but a sickly com- 
pliment (as it is an illy-consoling excuse) for that officer to 
say that, perhaps, he did not realize all the necessities of the 
case. And yet the fact is patent, that there was, during the 
whole of this campaign, a lack of supplies for the medical 
and hospital departments, which, without doubt, was the 
cause of more deaths than occurred by the other and more 
direct casualties of war. 

It may be remarked here, in defence of Dr. Tripler, that 
although he has not, for a long time past, filled the office of 
Medical Director, yet at every battle since the removal of the 
army from Harrison's Landing (as I have been informed by 
a number of returned surgeons whose capacity and credibility 
cannot be questioned), the same lamentable defects in the 
medical service of the army have existed to a greater or less 
extent; as, for instance, in the location of, and supplies for, 
the hospital at Windmill Point, where days are said to have 
elapsed before necessary food and medical supplies were ob- 
tained, and a great number of our men actually died from 
lack of them ; the medical history of the battle of Antietam, 
at which it is charged, by Dr. Agnew, that at least five hun- 
dred men died from the want of medical supplies; the late 
battle of Chancellorsville, where thousands were, it seems to 
me, needlessly left in the hands of the enemy, when they 
might and should have been transferred to the other side 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

of the river, and there received proper surgical attendance 
It is said that, after this battle, our brave wounded sdldiers, 
in many instances, laid for days without proper (and in some 
cases without any) food, and with no medical relief, many of 
them left to the mercies of the enemy, a large number dying 
from sheer neglect, and many more were buried alive in fires 
occasioned by the contending armies in shelling the woods, 
and in burning the Chancellor Hou.se. 

Where now rests the responsibility for all these incidents 
of lack of proper care and exertion in providing for the medi- 
cal department of the service ? Not on Dr. Tripler, certainly. 
If there were any faults in that gentleman's administration 
of the medical department of the Army of the Potomac, it 
seems apparent at a glance that those above him at the time, 
and yet in office, have not profited, or at any rate have not, 
for the advantage of the soldiers (who are, after all, most in- 
terested), availed themselves of and acted upon the instruc- 
tion which should have been derived from the development 
of such faults. 

The writer of this was one of a number of surgeons (all 
more or less known for their attainments in surgery, and many 
of them occupying the foremost ranks in their profession) 
who obeyed with alacrity the call for help which came forth, 
almost as with the wail of despair, from the Government and 
the officers and soldiers of our army, in anticipation of the 
heavy engagements which were to take place on the Penin- 
sula. These men, without reward, all left lucrative employ- 
ment at home, and aiforded most substantial assistance to the 
sick and wounded throughout the campaign ; and I am con- 
vinced not one of them can be found who will not coincide 
with me in my views as to the origin of the defects in the 
medical service of that campaign. Those men, knowing these 
defects, have called attention to them and their causes at 
home; and the result has been, that although many, if not all 
of them have been at all times since willing to extend the 
(same assistance thev at that time afforded to our sick and 



INTRODUCTION. XVU 

wounded, yet, by the fiat of those in power, they have been 
interdicted from so doing. The reason for this may\)Q found 
in an aversion, in high places, to the assistance of volunteer 
surgeons, who, seeing defects in the conduct of the depart- 
ment of the service pertaining to their profession, may deem 
it their duty to expose them. But enough of this. It is my 
intention to examine this subject more fully at another place; 
and at that time I shall deem it my duty, and it shall be my 
agreeable privilege, to discuss the matter, and expose the 
source of evil to its full extent. 

There have been many defects connected with the Penin- 
sular campaign (originating, no doubt, from the fact that the 
war of the rebellion had suddenly assumed proportions which 
no man, either North or South, had anticipated) which have 
since been successfully remedied by the Government. Many 
of these have been ably set forth by the author of this work. 
And indeed we may say with truth, the wonder now is that a 
Government so unaccustomed to war as ours had been has, in 
the space of two years and more of the most hotly contested 
struggle that ever convulsed a nation, exhibited so few fail- 
ings, and committed so few mistakes. What man is there 
among us who, two years ago to-day, would not have laughed 
to scorn the person who would have dared predict that this 
rebellion could have lasted to this day ? Who at that time 
dreamed that, before this hell-conceived uprising of a portion 
of our people against God's favored Government should cease, 
the armies upon either side would extend to millions ? And 
yet here, after two years of war, we find in the field, with either 
of the contestants, an army larger than has been supported 
by any Government for ages past. While, therefore, we all 
should claim the right to discuss freely (yet with charity) 
manifest errors or omissions of duty on the part of the Gov- 
ernment, or its representatives in the field, in the conduct of 
the war, we must not fail to render thanks to the " God of 
battles'' that he has enabled us, during the terrible contest 
2* 



XVlll INTRODUCTION. 

Litlierto, to travel in the right path so far as we have. It 
must be conceded at all times, however, that errors loinked at 
always grow upon us ; and it is, therefore, the duty of every 
citizen who loves his country at all times fearlessly to call 
attention to manifest imperfection and mismanagement, or wil- 
ful misconduct in the administration of any branch of the 
Government, without regard to the question as to whose in- 
terests or feelings may be affected by the exposure. Let the 
idea once obtain, that citizens must wink at or pass silently 
over demonstrated derelictions, or even indiscretions, in the 
Grovernment or its officials (whether in times of war or peace), 
simply because they are the derelictions or indiscretions of 
the Grovernment or its officers, and we surrender at once the 
right of the master (the people) to hold the servant (their 
representative in office) to accountability for his stewardship. 
An honestly intended administration of the Government never 
can be weakened (but will always profit) by a frank exhibi- 
tion of its defects; and that public officer who is unwilling 
to have his attention, or that of his sovereigns (the people), 
called to errors in his administration as an officer, is a dis- 
honest man, and will always be an unsafe and unreliable ser- 
vant of the people. I have deemed proper thus to remark 
upon this subject, because of the dangerous extent to which 
the expression, " hold on until the loar is over^^ is now being 
used, whenever any one has the frankness to point out errors 
or indiscretions in the conduct of any de-partment in reference 
to the war. My idea is, call attention to and cure these 
errors and indiscretions, if you would hasten the speedy and 
successful termination of this unhappy contest. 

For these reasons I have full confidence that, hereafter, the 
good sense of the people will, with one accord, render heart- 
felt thanks to Dr. Marks for the fearless manner in which, at 
times during the progress of his narrative, he has pointed out 
what he conceived to be errors of omission or commission in 
the conduct of the Peninsular campaign ; and whether the 
reader agree or disagree with the conclusions of the nuthor, 



INTRODUCTION. . XIX 

all will be compelled to acknowledge that tlie tone of the work 
affords ample proof of his sincerity in the matter. Thus, I 
myself am compelled to differ, to some extent, with him in his 
conclusions as to the standard and character of the surgeons 
of the army as a body ; and yet I must admit that there are, 
and have been, numbers in that branch of the service to whom 
his strictures (and even more severe), are justly applicable. In 
my experience with the Army of the Potomac I found the 
majority of the surgeons to be competent, faithful, and effi- 
cient men, always attentive to the interests of the sick and 
wounded, and never avoiding, but always courting " the post 
of danger as the post of duty.'' As a body, a more reliable 
set of officers could not be found in the service. If the pro- 
portion of better surgeons in the army has since decreased, 
it is highly probable that this decrease has been caused by 
the manifest defects in the management of the medical de- 
p^tment, for which they were in no wise responsible, and 
which have been referred to in this work by Dr. Marks, and 
in this introduction by myself. Men of the highest attain- 
ments, and purest motives, will not always consent to stand 
silently by and see faults, for the effects of which they them- 
selves may be blamed, even though they may be convinced 
that, by remaining and suffering, they may yet do some 
good : and it is not yet clear to a demonstration that many 
valuable men have not been driven from the corps of sur- 
geons of the army by their aversion to undergo the military 
necessity of remaining silent as to defects and abuses in the 
medical department, which are detrimental more to their 
patients than themselves, and yet for which they are not in 
any way accountable. But the poorer class, caring nothing for 
these things, would naturally remain ; and hence, perhaps, the 
strictures often now indulged in against the surgeons as a class. 
And now a few words as to the author of this work. I met 
him, a stranger, at the White House. With a natural dispo- 
sition, on my part, to exercise the utmost caution in the selec- 
tion of my friends and confidents, I found in him a man who, 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

from the commencement of our acquaintance, enweaved him- 
self in my affections ; and even before we had encountered 
half the harrowing scenes through which a Divine Providence 
guided each of us in safety. I learned to look up to and love 
him for himself. A more useful man was not connected with 
the army at that time. No man came within the sphere of 
his duties, who was not most favorably impressed by his pres- 
ence; and the thousands of soldiers now living, who from 
time to time, during those " days of hlood'' were the recipi- 
ents of his goodly counsels, and most kind attentions, will, in 
after years, whenever the name of Dr. Marks is mentioned, 
" rise up and call him blessed.'' A true Christian, who had 
learned the importance of at times addressing men's souls 
through their physical necessities, and the (to the pastor) still 
more important duty of adapting himself to the vicissitudes of 
life, that he might the more effectually carry out his Chris- 
tian mission, he everywhere and on all occasions, by all his 
acts, demonstrated to those around him the dignity and use- 
fulness of the pastorate, and the excellency and divinity of 
Grospel Christianity. The influence of such a man in the 
army must have been seen to be appreciated. With such men 
for teachers, comforters, and counsellors, no army can be con- 
quered, no nation subdued. His usefulness as a chaplain did 
not, however, to the least extent, transcend his capacities in 
the hospital ; and all who are acquainted with the facts will 
willingly concede that the advance hospital station left in his 
charge was at all times maintained and managed by him in a 
more cleanly, efficient, and orderly manner than any others 
connected with the Army of the Peninsula. 

That Dr. Marks may, by his book, and by all his works in 
life, accomplish all the good the Almighty designed for him, 
and he so much desires ; and that he, with all true patriots, may 
now be permitted to rejoice in the rebellion crushed, and the 
good old Union restored, is the most earnest wish of his friend, 

John Swinburne, M. D. 

July IZd, 1868. 



INCIDENTS AND SCENES 



OF THE 



PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 



CHAPTER I. 

Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many 
A^irginia Families — Fairfax Seminary — Bishop Meade. 

"We reached Washington City in August, 1861, 
— the companies composing the 63d Pennsylvania 
arriving at intervals of several days. Colonel (now 
General) A. Hays joined the regiment on the 
16th of September ; and on Saturday, the 27th of 
September, we crossed the Potomac, going in boats 
to Alexandria. 

On the morning of the following day we disem- 
barked, and marched to a new encampment on the 
Leesburg road. Our tents were pitched on the 
property of Mrs. Dr. Powell, under the shadow of 
the fruit-trees in her orchard, around her mansion. 
We were now 1070 strong; the men were large, 
robust, and full of life ; the regiment excited the 

(21) 



22 DR. JOHN CRAWFORD. 

interest of all the troops of the various States 
near us. 

We were at first included in the division com- 
manded by General Franklin, but were in a few 
days transferred to that of General Heintzleman. 

During our stay at Camp Hays, near Washing- 
ton, Dr. John Crawford came from Kittanning, Pa., 
and immediately commenced amongst us the duties 
of regimental surgeon. He was then in firm health, 
full of life, and enjoyed with the zest of a boy the 
strange scenes and novel adventures of camp-life. 
His presence was a constant charm to the men ; his 
face, always radiant and kindly, invited to trust in 
his sympathy. He was, moreover, a man of gentle 
and loving nature, highly gifted, not so much with 
the treasures of scholarship as with a memory that 
never failed him. Ardent in his nature, enthusiastic 
for all that was good and noble, he imparted his sym- 
pathies and emotions, like magnetic fire, to every 
one around him. He had the keenest relish for all 
that he esteemed beautiful and grand : every strik- 
ing scene, picture, or event unsealed the fountain, 
and there flowed forth the stream of song. Every 
hour spent in his company gave us some of the most 
precious gems of classical and English poetry. His 
nature was most afiectionate, leaning, probably, too 
much for happiness on his friends. Few men had 
a keener relish for society, and fewer still could im- 
part so much genuine enjoyment. l!Toble man! 
how sincerely we all mourned his loss, — passing 
away from us as he did in the very zenith of his 
power, and when there was opened for him the 
prospect so bright for usefulness to his country! 



VIRGINIA FAMILIES. 23 

Bui if our loss was great, who can conceive tlie 
irreparable one to his family ? He imparted, in the 
few days that he was with us, the sunshine of hope ; 
and how much of the light of life must have fled 
from those who looked up to him as the solace and 
the strength of the future ! 

Opposite to our encampment was the yellow oc- 
tagonal house of Mrs. Lee. The houses of the inhab- 
itants of the country were nearly all deserted. The 
families that resided in this section were the most 
aristocratic in the State — the Lees, the Masons, 
Washingtons, Hunters, Spotswoods, Fairfaxes, were 
represented, and some of them still retained broad 
ancestral lands. La the South, the most wealthy 
and polished people are not the dwellers in cities 
and towns ; but the planters and country gentlemen 
are the representatives 'of the old families; and 
everything rich in ancestral memorials is found in 
their homes. Many of these families lived in the 
greatest opulence and ease. The summer, with the 
exception of an occasional excursion to Hampton 
Roads and Cape May, was spent on their estates. 
The winter was given to "Washington ; and hence 
the influence that Virginia for a long time exerted 
on the ]N'ational Government was owing to the social 
power of many highly polished families, who, every 
season, gave themselves to the plottings and pleas- 
ures of the capital. The sons of these old aristo- 
cratic families were thus aided to obtain all the 
situations which they desired in the army, navy, and 
foreign embassies ; and the marriage of the daugh- 
ters of these wealthy and noble houses to members 
of Congress, officers in the army, and other distin- 



24 THE BLIGHT OF AVAR. 

guished citizens, spread tlie network of Virginia's 
influence over tlae entire land. 

Of these families, residing in the neighborhood 
of Alexandria, not one remained, except where ex- 
treme sickness or age prevented a removal. It was 
a strange spectacle, — those sumptuous and elegant 
mansions, with their rich furniture and paintings 
abandoned, and a few aged, helpless negroes and 
sick soldiers the only occupants. In a short time, 
all that was valuable in these houses disappeared ; 
the walls were blackened, the mirrors shattered, and 
everything interesting and beautiful destroyed. The 
fences were soon gone ; the orchards and gardens 
became encampments; and the once green fields 
were trodden into dustiness, the forests cut down, 
and everything we looked upon bore the blight 
of war. 

In many of these houses were found interesting 
family memorials, such as letters written in the last 
century, and were from fathers, sisters, and brothers, 
descriptive of travel, adventures, and marriages, and 
sometimes of narratives of conversations with dis- 
tinguished men : these letters were well "WTL'itten in 
the style of the old English authors in the days of 
Addison, Johnson, and Pope. I will be pardoned 
for alluding to these ; for they were found lying in 
open drawers and, in many instances, scattered upon 
the floor. One of them was an elegantly written 
epistle of a father to his son, then in a ISTorthern 
medical school, recalling the experiences of his own 
youth ; and, in words full of philosophy and piety, 
counsels him to " beware of the snares and tempta- 
tions which are the ruin of so many, and from which 



ABANDONED LETTERS. 2o 

they hope that repentance and reform can deliver 
them ; but the consequences are sure to come in 
sorrow, in confirmed habits of evil, in a thousand 
pains and ills, and, worst of all, in fear of an aveng- 
ing Providence, which neither infidelity nor occupa- 
tion can drive away from the mind." This letter 
is written in the bold round hand of the olden 
time. 

Another is the letter of a father to a young Dr. 
Powell, in answer to one requesting the hand of his 
daughter in marriage. The letter is written in a 
style so manly and noble that I felt acquainted with 
the writer, and regretted that one so calculated to 
adorn and bless had to die. Others of these letters 
conduct to the interior history of the family, depict- 
ing the anxieties, sorrows, and hopes of parents, — 
the unhappy events and confiicts of some years,, and 
the bereavements and death-scenes of others. These 
letters are interesting and instructive as family rec- 
ords, and teaching us the lesson that those who have 
gone before us had our trials, bufi'eted with the same 
troubles, loved and feared and joyed and hoped as 
we do now. One of these writers was a highly 
gifted woman, full of wit, and so keenly cutting the 
outline of the characters she met with, that you 
know them all, laugh with her at their follies, and 
enjoy their oddities. The women and the men that 
she describes stand out so living-like in her tableau, 
that we know them as though they had been our 
companions from childhood. In one of these letters 
she describes in a most amusing and felicitous man- 
ner the triumphal journey of an aunt through cer- 
tain towns of the Old Dominion, where she was 



26 FAIRFAX SEMINARY. 

everywhere wined, feted, and toasted because the 
mother of sixteen children. 

Amongst the papers found in various places in 
this house, were many manuscript sermons of the 
Rev. Mr. Lee, breathing an ardent Christian spirit. 
Mr. Lee, as I learned, had been dead many years. 
His wife, a daughter of Mrs. Powell, soon followed 
her husband ; and thus, two of the good of the land 
were taken away from the evil to come. Mr. Lee 
had been during his life a professor in Fairfax The- 
ological Seminary. This institution, belonging to 
the Episcopal Church, had for its patrons and 
founders such men as Bishops Moore, Meade, and 
Johns, — men whose praise for piety, wisdom, and 
eloquence is in the mouths of thousands, JSTorth 
and South. In this Seminary were educated men 
ardently devoted to the cause of religion, who were 
broad and catholic in their views. Bishop Meade 
especially was unfriendly to slavery, and favored 
the great movement of 1825-30, looking to emanci- 
pation, when many distinguished men in Virginia 
committed themselves so earnestly to the cause of 
human freedom. At this time, Bishop Meade was 
behind no one in urging on the people of his State 
the duty and expediency of emancipation ; and he 
farther depicted in glowing and prophetic language 
the dangers of the future, if, from motives of ava- 
rice, interest, and ease, they deferred action. And 
yet, this conscientious and far-sighted man de- 
fended on his dying bed the secession of the 
Southern States, though he well knew that the root 
principle of the rebellion was the determination to 
uphold and perpetuate human slavery. Such is the 



BISHOPMEADE. 27 

glory and tlie sliame of man ! To-day a prophet 
with, a speech which none can answer or resist, 
with an eye that reads the truth under any veil, 
and with a heart that welcomes all its self-denial 
and reproach ; but, to-morrow, a wretched trembler 
in the presence of enemies whom his wisdom and 
eloquence have collected, and with a darkened face 
and the heart of a child, fleeing from dangers which 
he had once welcomed ! 



28 QEORGEMASON. 



CHAPTER II. 

Encampment on the Farm of George Mason, Esq. — Character 
of this Man — Appearance of the Country — General Desola- 
tion — The Discipline of the Camp — General Jameson — 
Mrs. Jameson — The Daily Life of the Army — Personal Influ- 
ence of Officers. 

After remaining in Camp Shields about tliree 
weeks, we were transferred to the command of 
Major-Gen eral Heintzleman, and removed with 
several regiments to the extreme left of the Army 
of the Potomac. The new encampment was on the 
farm of George Mason, Esq. This gentleman had 
for a long time held a prominent position in Vir- 
ginia, both as a lawyer and politician. His boast 
and glory was that the blood of the Stuarts flowed 
in his veins, being a descendant of Charles H. ; and 
certainly the general contour of his face strikingly 
reminded one of many of the portraits of that 
family ; and in the expression of cold, savage bru- 
tality, he fell short of none of his illustrious ances- 
tors. This man is one of the few of whom I have 
yet to learn of a single good act to shine like a gem 
in the general waste of a barren life. As a son, by 
his unnatural cruelty he brought upon himself the 
curse of his mother; as a magistrate, he was as 
remorseless as James H. ; as a master, there are no 



GEORGE MASON. 29 

words in the English language to paint him. In his 
front grounds, near his house, now stand two large 
posts, with rings and chains in each. One he called 
"by the suggestive name of Tiger ; the other hy the 
equally expressive name of Lion. To these posts he 
had poor whites and free negroes whom, as a magis- 
trate, he condemned to be whipped for petty lar- 
cenies and trading with slaves, chained and whipped, 
— at the first execution giving them a taste of Lion, 
and dismissing the bleeding, cowering wretches with 
gleeful satisfaction, "hoping that they might be 
brought before him again, and the next time Tiger 
should tickle them with his soft and furry claw ! " 
This man, as a prominent lawyer and wealthy 
planter, had much to do in embittering the citizens 
of Virginia towards their countrymen of the i!^orth. 
He drew up in the Convention the celebrated bill 
for the expulsion of all I^orthern men from the 
State. He was known as an ardent advocate of all 
the docttines of Secession. 

When Ellsworth first broke into Alexandria, the 
tidings of the coming and near presence of the 
Yankees were soon borne along every highway; 
and to none brought more consternation than to the 
Hon. George Mason. He packed up in all haste his 
plate and valuables, gathered his slaves, ordered out 
his carriages, and, in the wildest haste, urged im- 
mediate flight to Richmond. His family, followed 
by a long retinue of servants, had already reached 
the avenue gate, when the procession was arrested 
by the appearance of our cavalry. The panic and 
scene that followed can be imagined. Mr. Mason 
most passionately complained of this indignity 
3* 



30 GEORGE MASON. 

heaped upon a citizen of Virginia. The ladies 
begged him to be quiet and submit, and wept and 
sobbed as though plunged into the very depths of 
misery. The negroes grinned with delight, enjoy- 
ing the dilemma and mortification of ^'Massa," but 
more "de comin' ob de wah." 

Mr. Mason was marched back, provided with 
comfortable quarters in his own house, and pro- 
tected by guard from all unreasonable intrusion. 
He was closely watched, and never permitted to 
leave his premises. !No clients came to his door; 
his functions as magistrate were suspended; his ne- 
groes were going and returning, riding his horses 
and selling his grain, without restraint. His fields 
were encampments ; his fences were consumed for 
fuel ; his forest lands were soon treeless ; and Mr. 
Mason could look over his wide farm and see every- 
where desolation. This was the winter of his dis- 
content. The very presence of our soldiers filled 
him with frenzy, and his rage was beyond disguise. 
But after a time his avarice mastered every other 
passion. In order to obtain damages for the ruin 
of his property, he took the oath of allegiance, 
brought in a bill of eighty thousand dollars against 
the Government, — charging twenty thousand dol- 
lars for the cord-wood we cut, and eighty dollars an 
acre for the injury done the land on which we en- 
camped, and ten thousand dollars for his fences. A 
commission audited his bills, but with what result I 
never heard. Such is one of the aristocrats who 
plunged the whole country into war, and brought 
ruin on Virginia. 

We now began to assume all the peculiarities of 



MILITARYDI3CIPLINE. 31 

camp-life; and military discipline gradually cur- 
tailed personal liberty, but with a wisdom which 1 
shall always admire. Colonel Hays (now General 
Hays) did not suddenly place on the necks of the 
soldiers the iron yoke of militaiy law. He grad- 
ually accustomed the men to submission ; went 
through the ranks and instructed them, — being 
more patient than one could have anticipated, from 
his fiery nature, with their slowness and errors. At 
first, he made the lash of discipline fall most heavily 
on the officers ; and little by little accustomed the 
men to the stern regime essential for the success of 
an army. He knew well that rigid military rule 
would be at first intolerably oppressive to those who 
had possessed liberty to the utmost license. He 
made no effort to whip and scourge the men into 
order, but left this to time and training. To this 
immediate extinguishment of the liberty of the citi- 
zen may be traced much of the insubordination and 
sickness of the army in the autumn of 1861. Many, 
stung to madness by the tyranny of those no way 
their superiors, and smarting under a discipline ca- 
pricious and unmerciful, became eager to throw 
themselves away in dissipation, and in acts of fool- 
hardiness ; others, contrasting their "grievous bond- 
age " with the enjoyment and quiet liberty of their 
homes, sunk into a state bitter and gloomy, caring 
little for their lives, became indifferent to their per- 
sons and duties, and welcomed wounds or death as 
an escape from a despotism they could not endure. 
These nameless injuries and insults suffered under 
the name of discipline, excited my pity for the 
Boldier more than even his sickness and wounds. 



32 THEVOLUNTEER. 

In the ordinary adjustments of society there are 
many restraints upon men of selfish, resentful, and 
cruel natures ; but such a man in the army as an 
officer can gratify to the full the malignity of his 
heart. There is no man who more fully deserves 
the gratitude of his country than the volunteer sol- 
dier in our armies. He has left his home, sacrificed 
his interests, thrown himself out of employment, 
relinquished for years all his plans for tlie future, 
given up his personal liberty, and, at the call of his 
country, laid on her altar all that man holds most 
dear. All honor to our noble volunteer ! May the 
country they have helped to redeem for freedom, 
never forget them, and their children honor with 
the deepest love their memory ! 

It is due to General Hays to say that, while he 
was always active, — no effort fatiguing him, nor 
length of march wearying him, — he was patient 
with the men, and never permitted any one to be 
wronged, if he knew it. He was restless, impulsive, 
and fiery in temper, therefore sometimes erring in 
haste of judgment, but underneath all there was 
really a warm, generous nature. He had the singu- 
lar power of infusing his own spirit into his men, — 
making the weakest strong, and controlling the 
most turbulent by a glance of his eye, or wave of 
nis hand ; a man whom nature designed for the po- 
sition he occupied. Very soon after our removal to 
Camp Johnson our brigade was placed under the 
command of General C. Jameson. I have met no 
one in the army with soldierlike qualities suj)erior 
to this man. With a tall, noble person, as com- 
manding in look as Julius Caesar, in a group of a 



GENERAL JAMESON. 33 

thousand officers the eye would have selected him 
as the finest model of manhood. 

At the commencement of the rebellion, he occu« 
pied a distinguished position at the bar in his native 
State — Maine. He was one of the first to ofier his 
life to his country. He came out as commander of 
the 3d Maine, and was in the thickest of the fight 
at Bull's Run. By his coolness and bravery on that 
fatal field, he won for himself the thanks of the army 
and the nation. As the commander of our brigade, 
he was impartial,— easily approached by officers and 
soldiers in the ranks. He had none of that hauteur 
and silent sternness assumed by many officers, who, 
dressed in a little brief authority, listen to complaints 
with impatience, and reply with insults. To him 
every soldier was still a man and a brother. As an 
officer, training and disciplining his brigade, few in 
the army were his superiors. He mastered with 
ease the most difficult and complicated movements, 
and showed himself equal to every emergency. If 
it had pleased Providence to spare him, there was 
no doubt a brilliant and successful future before 
him. From his earnest enthusiasm, generous kind- 
ness, and ardent devotion to the cause of his coun- 
try, one portion of the army derived much of that 
moral force which bore it so successfully through 
the Peninsular campaign. Mrs. Jameson accompa- 
nied her husband to his tent when he first came 
amongst us, and remained during the winter. Of 
this lady, as of one who will never emerge from the 
shadow of her widowhood, it may not be improper 
nor indelicate to speak, l^ot more than thirty 
years of age, her countenance had lost none of the 



84 MRS. JAMESON. 

radiancy of her girlhood. With a person uncom- 
monly graceful, she had a face that shone on us 
like the star of the morning, — always hopeful and 
benignant. With refined and polished manners, 
delighting in good books, and in conversation natu- 
rally diffusing the precious odors collected in those 
gardens of spices, — lowly in her estimate of her- 
self, humble before God, meek and gentle in spirit, 
— she appeared to us as one clothed in the purity 
of the Madonna. She was all one could desire in a 
companion and friend of the heart. The presence 
of this excellent lady in our portion of the army 
was of a value never to be estimated. As she 
passed through the camp and hospitals in familiar 
visitations, as she attended our meetings for prayer 
and public worship, the officers and soldiers were 
reminded of their mothers, wives, sisters, and daugh- 
ters ; and home affections were revived. The very 
sight of a woman of spotless purity in the camp, is 
like the visit of an angel. 

We had at this time in our brigade the 99th 
Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel Lujeane; 
the 105th Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel 
McKnight; the 61st Pennsylvania, commanded by 
Colonel Rippey; the 57th Pennsylvania, commanded 
by Colonel C. Campbell ; the 87th E'ew York, com- 
manded by Colonel Dodge ; the 63d Pennsylvania, 
commanded by Colonel Hays. The usual camp 
duties were : the reveille beat at six o'clock in the 
morning, and in -^ve minutes after, the roll was 
called in the street of each company, and every sol- 
dier was obliged to report himself dressed and ready 
for duty. At seven o'clock breakfast was served 



CAMP-LIFE. 05 

by tlie company cooks to eacTi mess. The break- 
fast was generally camp crackers, called ^'Hard 
Tack," coFee without milk, and a piece of pork or 
beef. If we were so fortunate as to have a sutler in 
camp, we added to our luxuries a little butter or 
molasses. Then commenced the daily cleaning and 
scouring of guns, which lasted until half-past eight 
o'clock, when the guard-mounting began. From 
forty to eighty men were daily in requisition for 
guarding camp, head-quarters, and commissary stores. 
The men required from each regiment were marched 
to brigade head-quarters, and then assigned their 
several posts of duty, and at nine o'clock returned, 
and resumed their appointed beat or watch. At 
nine o'clock, except when the weather was very 
bad, the various companies were marched to some 
neighboring field for drill and manoeuvre. They 
were sometimes commanded by a captain, but more 
frequently by a lieutenant, or orderly sergeant. 
This continued until twelve o'clock, when they re- 
turned to camp for dinner. At that meal we had 
crackers, bean-soup, boiled meat, and coffee, but 
rarely potatoes. At half-past one, the camp was 
again all bustle, — the men strapping on their over- 
coats and knapsacks, cleaning, washing, and black- 
ing, for regimental or brigade drill. At two o'clock 
they marched into the field, and continued to prac- 
tise all those movements and evolutions which ena- 
ble men to act in concert, and facilitate the use of 
the weapons of war. At four o'clock, in the winter, 
the men returned to camp, rested a few moments, 
and then again fell into line for dress parade. This 
always struck me as the most imposing of all our 



36 THEDRUM-MAJOR. 

military ceremonials. The men were expected to 
wear their best clothing; the companies, without 
the delay of a moment, fell into the line from their 
own camp-street; and, when the men took their 
places, a perfect silence succeeded the noise of a 
thousand feet, and all assumed a solemn, statue-like 
rigidity. 

The band-corps standing on the extreme right of 
the regiment now strike up some military air ; and 
the drum-major stands in front of the band, looking 
for all the world like the buckram soldier in a mu- 
sical box. The impressiveness of this officer's ap- 
pearance is heightened by the great staff which he 
bears in his hand, with an enormous gilt head. Of 
what this staff and its big head are emblematic, I 
never could learn, — possibly designed to be an im- 
pressive symbol of the fact that all bands are likely 
to be afflicted with that fantastic disease, the "big 
head." As the Persian kings had their coffins borne 
before them when they entered the royal palace to 
be crowned, — reminding them that all earthly power 
and splendor ended in the grave, — so this huge- 
headed staff may be borne before the band, and, in 
the hand, be made to perform a part so fantastic and 
ridiculous, to remind them that they might become 
empty-headed, foolish, vain, and worthless. With 
a most solemn step, the major now advances, ele- 
vates his staff, shakes it at some power in the air, 
then lowers it, , as before some imaginary divinity, 
and, with many elevations, quivers, and shakes of 
the staff, wheels on the left and commences his ma- 
jestic march. It is always essential that this officer 
should look fierce, and bring down his heel on the 



DEESSPARADE. 37 

ground with indignant force, as if calling upon the 
earth to pulsate to his tread. The band slowly 
marches along the entire line, and, when it reaches 
the extreme of the left wing, wheels, and with a 
much more rapid strain and quicker step returns to 
the head of the regiment. 

In front of the line, and about a hundred feet in 
advance of the centre, stands the colonel. The offi- 
cers, at a given command from the adjutant, advance 
in front of their companies ; then comes from out of 
each company the orderly sergeant, and all advance 
to the centre of the line, and give their evening report 
of officers or men absent without leave. After the 
return of the orderlies to their position at the head 
of their companies, the adjutant reads any orders 
which may have been received from the "War De- 
partment, from the general-in-chief of the division, 
or brigadier-general, or from the colonel, inflicting 
punishment for offences, or granting jDromotions. 
After this, the officers advance in line and greet the 
colonel with a military salute. If the commander 
has any instructions to give to the officers, they 
listen with the deepest respect ; and in a few mo- 
ments, with a mutual wave of the hand, the officers 
separate, the companies deploy into their camp- 
street, break ranks, the military work of the day is 
over ; and the deep silence of the last hour is suc- 
ceeded by the shouts, the songs, and laughter of 
those who have thrown off' the yoke and burden of 
another day. Poor fellows ! they little know what 
may be in wait for them. 

Very soon after we entered our new encampment, 
the men commenced building little cabins, large 
4 



88 THE DAILY REPORTS. 

enougli to contain four, eight, or twelve persons. 
In these they built chimneys, and in a little while 
were quite comfortable. Many of the enjoyments 
of civilization were borne into these cabins, i^early 
every soldier had his Bible, almost all a hymn-book ; 
many of them possessed libraries of several valuable 
volumes, and spent much of the night in reading. 
Others spent their nights around the camp-fire, and 
many were the stories told, — the wild legends of In- 
dian, Celtic, and German life, — fierce were the con- 
troversies in regard to politics, religious faith, and 
the virtues and vices of various races ; and there 
was always some one the butt of all, and mercilessly 
the subject of caricature. 

In the first organization of a regiment, the officers 
who have the severest labor are the captains, adju- 
tants, and orderlies. All the others may escape 
from constant watchfulness and exertion, but with 
these it is impossible ; for daily reports have to be 
made to the colonel and to brigade head-quarters, 
and censure and severe discipline follow any neg- 
lect of duty. These daily reports descend to the 
most minute details : the number of men in camp ; 
the number sick; the number sick in quarters; 
the sick in the hospitals ; the number in the com- 
pany present for duty; the number detailed for 
special service ; and where those absent from camp, 
whether on passes or furlough ; the rations drawn, 
etc. etc. Every few weeks these reports are ren- 
dered more voluminous, and incredibly difficult of 
preparation, by the clothing account, in which is 
charged to each soldier all the articles of dress he 
draws, — he being allowed clothing to the amount of 



ISOLATION OF MILITARY LIFE. 39 

forty-two dollars a year ; and if he draws less will 
receive pay to that amount, and if more it will 
be deducted from his monthly pay. These reports 
must in all things conform to strict military rule, — 
which, like the law of the Modes and Persians, 
changeth not. There must be no mistakes, nothing 
to be corrected, or left to be understood. 

In a little time after the organization of a regi- 
ment, the isolation of the men composing it from 
the world becomes almost complete. His regiment 
constitutes the whole world to the man. It is but 
rarely he can obtain a pass to go without the lines ; 
and when he could visit some old friend or neighbor 
in another regiment, camp duties, repairing his 
cabin, washing his clothes, or mending his gar- 
ments, occupy his spare moments. Thus, the sol- 
dier in the army, like the man digging a well, grad- 
ually sinks out of the sight of men ; and his own 
vision of the world becomes every hour more nar- 
row. Regiments lying alongside of each other will 
not have the slightest intercourse, and in months 
will scarcely know each other's name or numbers ; 
and this is more especially the case if they are from 
different States. 

This is one of the results of service in the 
army most deeply to be deplored, — that the offi- 
cers and soldiers lose all American feeling, and 
have no ambition beyond their own regiment or, 
at most, corps. Against this, every wise com- 
mander of divisions and corps will watch, and take 
every measure in his power to induce intercourse 
and friendly sympathy between the officers repre- 
senting different sections of the country. The ten- 



40 SELFISHNESS OF MILITARY LIFE. 

dency of military life is to generate an intense sell 
ishness. Away from home and all those blessed 
influences which soften and expand the heart in 
sympathy, encompassed with masculine grossness, 
all the nature hardens, and ''is set on fire." The 
emotions of tenderness and pity are suppressed, and 
the mind fully occupied with the plans of ambition, 
stung by insults, or inflamed by rivalry and hate. 
There is no spot in the wild chaos of the soul where 
the dove of charity can rest. I have wept bitter 
tears on the fields of battle, where "the gory, 
ghastly spectacle" was too terrible to be endured; 
I have felt sincere pity for those who for long 
months suiFered the pains of wounds and sickness 
on the hospital-beds; but nothing has occasioned 
me the same profound grief as witnessing the deg- 
radation of human nature in the army. What com- 
miseration can be deep enough for that soldier who 
knows well that he is only valuable in the eyes of 
his oflicers as a creature of muscle, with powers of 
endurance beyond those of the camel of the desert, 
as he is able to dig trenches, stand guard twenty- 
four hours without sleep or rest, — as he can bear 
without complaint storm and sunshine, winter's 
cold and summer's heat ; and, when no longer ca- 
pable of performing exhausting duties and marches, 
he is consigned to the living tomb of some hospital, 
with little thought and less pity, left far in the rear, 
cai'ried from one hospital to another, forgotten as 
the dead, and dropped out of the memory of his 
companions. 

Many officers, as they ascend in rank in the ser- 



INHUMANITY OF OFFICERS. 41 

vice, divest tliemselves of all liuman feeling. With 
them, power hardens the heart and dries up all the 
springs of generous sympathy ; their faces become 
cold and stern, and their commands have in them 
a sting which degrades all who have to obey. 
Under such an officer, the soldier invariably be- 
comes a worse man, often losing all interest in 
the cause of his country. 

As an escape from a despotism which goads 
them to madness, some desert, others feign sick- 
ness, others sink into indifference, and endure with 
feigned apathy the extra duty of the camp to-day, 
the guard-house to-morrow, and the handcuffs the 
next day; and all this because they have become 
hopeless. They have been treated like brutes, and 
to brutality they sink. 

I know that this stern iron rule — into which 
not a single element of humanity is permitted to 
enter — is excused on the principle of necessity. 
"War has no time for charity," ''nor moments 
which she can give to anointings with the oil of 
kindness." 

To this, the reply is easy, l^o man is fit to 
command in the camp or field who does not con- 
stantly recognize the great principles of humanity. 
Men may be drilled into perfect, living machines ; 
but this is not courage. All true bravery springs 
from confidence in the right of that cause for 
which all home ties are sacrificed ; and in such 
an hour, every soldier is heroic in proportion to 
the trust and love which he bears towards his 

commander. 
4* 



42 McCLELLAN AND KEARNEY. 

In battle, the voice of the man whom the sol- 
dier loves, nerves his heart; and, rather than for- 
feit his esteem by flight, he will remain at his 
post and die. Much of the devotion of the army 
to General McClellan was owing to the fact that, as 
he rode through the ranks, he always looked upon 
the men kindly; and when he had to press a 
soldier out of his way, it was never with rudeness 
or insult. And this was the secret of Kearney's 
popularity in his division ; and among the thou- 
sand camp traditions of that singular and gifted 
man, there is not one of needless insult or cruelty 
to soldiers in the ranks. For them he had always the 
looks and language of cheer ; while for his officers 
he had often such words of biting, bitter scorn 
as only General Kearney could utter, — falling on 
them like angry flashes of lightning from a storm- 
cloud. And in all the army I know of no such 
devotion to a general as was exhibited by the men 
of Kearney's division. 

The soldiers who perform prodigies of valor are 
those who have formed strong personal attachments 
for some officer ; and they cannot waver under his 
eye, nor desert his person. 

My firm conviction, after nearly two years of 
observation, is that every officer ought to be dis- 
missed from the service, as worthless for such a 
position of power, who fails to secure the trust and 
love of his men. For it "will be found in the day 
of battle that such an officer will be left alone to 
perish ; and, regardless of his fate, every man will 
consult his o^vn safety. 



CHANGE OF OFFICERS. 43 

I have known companies in regiments wliich, 
in tlie earlier Peninsular engagements, never stood 
firm; but subsequently, by change of officers, be- 
came the best and most unfaltering of heroes. 

ISTothing is lost by honoring in every man the 
great principles of his manhood. 



44 DISTRIBUTION OF BOOKS. 



CHAPTER III. 

The Chaplain and his Duties — Distribution of Books — Religious 
Services — The Obstacles to Success — No Protection nor as- 
signed Duties — Treatment of the Chaplains by many OflB- 
cers — The Tendencies of Military Law. 

I HAD been tlie chaplain of the 12th regiment 
Pennsylvania Volunteers in the three months' ser- 
vice ; and, while in the service of that regiment, had 
extended my labors along the line of the I^orthern 
Central Railroad from York to Baltimore, — as the 
regiment was on guard-duty all its term of enlist- 
ment on that line. 

I re-entered the army as chaplain of the 63d 
Pennsylvania, and my services commenced about 
the 1st of September, 1862. 

We were then encamped near Washington. Many 
of the men were young, and fresh from their homes, 
and entered with a most hearty enthusiasm into 
everything that promised to interest them and give 
relief; for they were yearning for something to fill 
up the place in their hearts left vacant by being 
separated from all they had loved from childhood. 

My first care was to distribute Testaments and 
hymn-books among them. With these, 'some had 
been supplied before leaving home. The first week 
I appeared in camp I distributed to those who came 



OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH. 45 

to my tent four hundred copies of the New Testa- 
ment, in four different languages, — English, Ger- 
man, French, and Italian,— and during the same 
week, six hundred small hymn-books, called the 
" Soldier's Hymn-book," — drawing my supplies from 
the American Tract Societies of I^ew York and 
Boston. From more than one hundred tents the 
evening hymn ascended to heaven, and those sacred 
songs were sung with an emotion hitherto unknown ; 
for they reminded them of home, and dear friends, 
and brought back afresh the most solemn and im- 
pressive scenes in their lives. 

My custom was to have two public services on 
the Sabbath. These were held in the open ground 
of the camp, and were well attended by men and 
officers. The attendance from the first was volun- 
tary. But I am now convinced, after the experi- 
ence of nearly two years, that every soldier ought 
to be compelled to attend the worship of God once 
on the Sabbath, whatever may be the religious faith 
of the chaplain. If a man of sense, he will preach 
on those religious truths and duties which find a 
response in all minds ; and, as much of the power 
of divine worship, after we reach the years of ma- 
turity, is in reviving the sacred impressions of the 
past, all may be benefited. But according to the 
present arrangement, the attendance being volun- 
tary, those who most need instruction and rebuke 
never come under the sound of the chaplain's voice. 
And if in any way he provokes the hostility of a 
number of ofiicers, he will find his occupation gone : 
a mere corporal's guard will attend his Sabbath 
ministrations, and in a thousand ways will he be 



46 OPPOSITION TO THE CHAPLAIN. 

snubbed, and made to feel that Ms presence is a 
restraint, his life a sinecure, and, as an officer, a use- 
less appendage to the army. 

This opposition is easily provoked. Rebukes for 
drunkenness, gambling, profanity, or undue severity, 
will be certain to bring down on the offending 
chaplain a storm of rage. '' He has been teaching 
the men to despise their officers. He has been med- 
dling with things which he has no business to men- 
tion or to see. He does not preach the gospel. He 
is a small-minded busybody. If they had a chaplain 
who was a gentleman, they would always attend his 
services and encourage him ; but, under this man, 
there is danger of their becoming heathens and infi- 
dels." Thus, the Christian minister in the army, 
just in proportion as he is a man of true iDiety and 
worth, will provoke hostility, and his resignation be 
compelled. In many cases, some of the best of men 
have, under unprincipled and infidel officers, suf- 
fered months of martyrdom ; and nowhere can the 
chaplain look in hope for help, — the Government 
giving him, indeed, his commission, but not assign- 
ing his duties, nor compelling the other officers of 
his regiment to help and sustain him in his work. 
Their duties are prescribed, definite, and minute ; 
but for him, all is uncertainty. The surgeons must 
have their hour for sick-calls, and be aided by all 
the officers in finding the disabled of the regiment : 
their decision with regard to the sick must be re- 
spected. The men whom they order to the hospital, 
must be sent: those whom they command to re- 
main in their quarters, cannot be called out on duty. 
But the chaplain is powerless. He has no hour that 



THE ARMY CHAPLAINS. 4T 

IS Hs, but can be crowded out of all tbe Sabbaths 
of the year by parades, military necessities, etc. etc. 
There are many complaints in regard to the inef- 
ficiency of chaplains in the army. There may be 
much truth in this ; for many of the chaplains are 
men who have passed the prime of their lives, and 
have been worn out in the work of the ministry be- 
fore they entered the army. Beyond other men 
their habits of thought and action become fijced and 
permanent. They cannot conform with ease to the 
new circumstances in which they find themselves ; 
and, in some cases, their teachings are not appro- 
priate to the moral necessities of the men whom 
they address. But there are many most valuable 
chaplains in the army, — men of the highest intel- 
lectual culture and purest worth, who in talent 
would stand in the front rank of any profession, and 
fill the best pulpits in the country. It is most im- 
portant for the moral welfare of the army, that such 
men should not be driven from their places. But 
they deeply feel the indignity inflicted on them by 
degradation of rank and absence of protection. 

So far as the appointment of chaplains is con- 
cerned, it was evidently a concession made to the 
religious sentiment of the country, — one of those 
formless, shapeless things thrown in to fill up a 
vacuum. If there was any intention to secure to 
the army the highest benefit from religious and 
moral teaching, why leave the whole plan imper- 
fect and, like a roofless dwelling, valueless as a 
shelter, worthless as a home ? Since the chaplain's 
service is such an immense expense to the Govern- 
ment, why not make it efficient, — prescribing what 



48 MILITARY LAW. 

tlie man shall do, compelling its performance, and 
the attendance of every man in the regiment on his 
teaching? Talk of the man effecting but little when 
he and his services can be tossed as an idle ball 
from hour to hour ! Complain of his want of power 
when he is left out shivering in the cold, when for 
every other man in the army there are rights and 
the protection of law ! 

Every man who, as an officer or soldier, has been 
in the service of the Government, knows that the 
purpose of the entire military system is to beget 
reverence for law. Law, law, is written on the pu- 
pil of the soldier's eye, graved on every bone of his 
body, and burned into every muscle. By law, the 
light of his tent is extinguished, and he sleeps ; by 
law, every step of his nightly beat is determined, 
and if he slumbers at his post, he dies. By law, he 
is awakened in the morning before the dawn, and 
brought forth from his tent ; it regulates every mor- 
sel of his food, the very hour it should be served 
to him, and during the entire day he hears no voice 
but its commands. Law, like an august monarch, 
reigns in the camp, and every instinctive desire of 
the soul, love, and friendship have to bow at its feet. 
Law prescribes every movement, invests him as a 
coat of mail, speaks to him lying down and talks to 
him rising up. Law winds the cord around his hat, 
ties his shoe-latchet, brushes the dust from his coat, 
and rubs the rust from his gun. Law lays its giant 
mailed hand on all his natural instincts. At one 
time it converts the living, moving man into a rigid 
statue of iron, and again hastens him, with the 
steady step of one to Avhom fear is imknown, into 



CHAPLAINS NEED PROTECTION. 49 

the jaws of death. At one moment, by a wave of 
its hand, prostrating him in the dust, another mo- 
ment hurrying him with frantic fury into the face 
of his enemies. Law scowls at conscience, has con- 
tempt for remorse, hate for charity, and freezes the 
tear of pity on tlie cheek of him who sheds it. "Well 
may we adopt of military law the expressive lan- 
guage of prophecy : " It is strong and terrible exceed- 
ingly." E'o thing on earth is so effective in changing 
the entire nature of man. And when this is the in- 
tention, the actual influence of military discipline, is 
it wise to have a class of officers in the army with- 
out its protection and aid ? Are they not thrown 
into a position necessarily isolated and defenceless ? 
Unhesitatingly I say, rather abolish the entire chap- 
lain service than continue it as it is now. If the 
man has no rights, no assigned sphere, no prescribed 
duties, no protection from law, — but is occasionally 
permitted by a colonel, whom unreasoning Mars 
has placed at the head of his regiment, to hold a 
religious service, — then his life is a degradation, 
and his ministry a failure. 

For the very reason I have alluded to, because the 
chaplain has duties without rights, not one officer in 
twenty will attend any religious service. They soon 
catch the spirit of many of their superior officers, which 
is, — tolerate the chaplains, for we cannot without 
them secure enlistments ; but never forget they are 
a great expense and annoyance, therefore gently but 
surely get clear of them by never attending their 
ministrations ; by giving them nothing to do ; by hin- 
dering anything they attempt to accomplish; by 
never showing them any attention ; by leaving them 
5 



50 PERSECUTION OF CHAPLAINS. 

tentless, at the mercy of tlie other officers ; by making 
all tlie profanity, the drunkenness, the thieving, and 
gambling of the regiment the proof of the chaplain's 
being ''a dumb dog;" by giving him no transporta- 
tion for anything he may have gathered for the good 
of the men, — such as books, — or a tent for worship; 
spring on him as many reviews and parades as pos- 
sible ; keep the men a long time standing at Sunday 
morning inspection, — make this very important. If 
the chaplain should come around, show undisguis- 
edly your contempt before the men. Jeer and laugh 
when his back is turned ; and when you have pro- 
longed inspection until the heat of the day, go 
straight to your tent, and advise your men to do the 
same. Be certain that Sunday shall be the only day 
of the week when you will consult the ease and 
comfort of the soldier. Advise sleep and rest. Ad- 
journ the chaplain's service over until night, and 
then, by having a great deal going on, defer the ser- 
vices as late as possible, and then have tattoo beat 
during the first hymn or just after the announcement 
of the text. If after all this he still hangs on, de- 
grade him by making him postmaster and mail- 
boy. If he has no horse on which to carry the mail- 
bag, put him as a nurse into a hospital. If post- 
master, take the pound of flesh ; make him turn out 
with the mail in thunder-storms, in winter tempests ; 
make him swim rivers, struggle through sloughs 
deep enough to engulf armies. If he demurs at con- 
veying the mail on Sundays, let him know most 
distinctly that no officer has any business with a 
conscience in the ITnited States service ; but if he 
still refuses to go, take as a matter of compromise 



THE PICTURE NOT OVERDRAWN. 51 

the most drunken, furious soldier in tlie camp, bor- 
row for him the ferocious spurs of the quartermas- 
ter, mount him on the chaplain's horse, send him 
with the mail-hag ; and if the animal returns wind- 
broken and blind of an eye, pity the horse, curse the 
chaplain, and reward the soldier. 

Let no man think that such wrongs as these were 
never perpetrated in the army. I could bring the 
most reliable witnesses to prove that this only 
faintly hints at the indignities that many chaplains 
have had to endure ; and though this has never been 
my experience, shall I be so unmanly as to be less 
indignant because it was the bitter experience of 
many of my brethren ? I have myself in other por- 
tions of the army been grossly insulted by men who 
afterwards apologized, because they thought the 
chaplains men of little spirit and less value. 

I know not that any good can be done by the 
publication of the infidelity and atheism of many of 
the officers of the army. But it gives me satisfac- 
tion to be now at liberty to say, that the men who 
were so rigid in exacting the performance of every 
military duty, habitually neglect the greatest of 
moral obligations. 

With all these discouragements and hindrances, 
my firm conviction is that the religious teacher who 
is firm, faithful, and constantly thoughtful of the 
great interests of which he is the representative, 
will find friends in every regiment, and his very 
enemies will make peace with him. 

At the same time I am more certain that there 
are great and radical defects in the present organi- 



52 CHAPLAINS INVALUABLE. 

zatioii of the chaplain service, v^hicli loudly demand 
amendment and change. I fully believe that the 
chaplains are now performing a service for the 
country and army of inestimable value; and most 
sorry should I be to see them driven from their 
posts. I fear this is inevitable, unless they have a 
protection and authority not now given. 



THE LIBRARY. 53 



CHAPTER lY. 

The Revival — Gloom and Discontent from Inaction — Tent for 
Public Worship — Dedication Scene — The Soldier alone with 
his Mother — The Formation of a Camp Church — Progress of 
the Revival — Letter of Mansfield Brown, Esq. 

For the eucouragement of those various benevo- 
lent societies which send books and papers to the 
army, I must record my testimony to their signal 
usefulness. 

While we were in the neighborhood of Washing- 
ton and Alexandria, I obtained weekly supplies of 
these, and aimed, every Saturday evening and Sab- 
bath morning, to visit all the tents in the regiment, 
and give to each soldier something for Sabbath 
reading. 

These were uniformly received thankfully, and 
read. 

I collected a library of three or four hundred vol- 
umes of historical, scientific, and biographical works. 
"With these I had three hundred numbers of maga- 
zines and reviews, such as Harpers', Littell's Living 
Age, the Eclectic. These found their way into 
every tent, and were read with manifest benefit. 
The men, as there were given to them this mental 
5* 



54 BENEFIT OP A LIBRARY. 

nutriment and amnsement, felt less temptation to 
waste time in card-playing, or to seek excitement in 
intoxication. They were more contented and peace- 
ful, and many made astonishing progress in general 
knowledge. During tlie days that were stormy and 
wet, they spent the entire time, except those on 
guard, in their tents; and, having books within 
their reach, the hours were neither dark nor mis- 
spent. Many assured me that they had gained 
more knowledge in the camp, during the winter of 
18^2, than in all the years of their previous lives. 

One hundred and twenty volumes of very valu- 
able books, entirely new, were contributed by W. 
M. Shinn, Esq., of Pittsburg. Others were received 
from the Soldiers' Aid Association, in Pittsburg; 
others were from the United States Sanitary Com- 
mission ; others from the American Tract Societies 
of Boston and 'New York. These contributions se- 
cured a benefit never to be estimated in time. 

Very soon I found it essential to secure a tent for 
public worship. One was obtained from the Eev. 
M. Brown, of Georgetown. It was a tent which had 
been used for several years for camp-meeting pur- 
poses. This the strong winds of October blew to 
pieces. We were then for several weeks without 
any covering or shelter. Until the 1st of December 
we held our meetings in a large guard-house which 
had been reared ; but this we found very unsuitable 
and smoky. 

Most dark and gloomy at this hour was our pros- 
pect for doing good. There had set in a long season 
of storm : the mud was fabulously deep. The tents 
were frequently flooded. The men were becoming 



GLOOM AND DISCONTENT. 55 

restless and desponding. A great change had oc- 
curred at home. All manufacturing interests had 
started anew, and wages were higher than ever before, 
while the families of the soldiers were suffering with 
sickness, poverty, and cold, ^ow they began to 
feel the corroding of the fetter. Their friends and 
neighbors who had remained at home were reaping 
a golden harvest. 

All these things angered the soldiers. Their 
faces became gloomy and their hearts sad. Their 
wives and children came to them at night in their 
dreams, weeping and haggard ; and by day they 
were haunted with a sorrow they could not shake 
off. Some sunk into languor and home-sickness, — 
which mocked all the usual remedies for disease, 
and sent them to the hospital, and in the end to the 
grave. 

It now became a matter of the highest moment 
to amuse the men, and bear their thoughts to those 
truths which have ever stilled the tumult of human 
passion. We made arrangements to start in the 
camp various classes for mutual instruction. Two 
in the Latin language, one in the study of German, 
one in arithmetic, and, most important of all, a de- 
bating societ}^ In order to carry successfully into 
execution all these plans for improvement, I wrote to 
my friends, Mansfield Brown and Joseph McKnight, 
of Pittsburg, for the means to purchase a tent for 
public worship, and such assemblies as would con- 
duce to the benefit of the regiment. Most gener- 
ously, and without the delay of an hour, they re- 
sponded, authorizing the purchase of a tent. The 
very day their letter was received, a large tent was 



5t) TENT FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

offered for sale in a neigliboring camp. TMs I 
immediately purcliased ; and before niglit had it 
pitched, a floor laid down, and a stove placed 
in it. 

Tims, everything was arranged for Sabbath wor- 
ship. This was about the 1st of January, 1862. "We 
met in the tent on Sabbath morning, a large con- 
gregation, some seated on camp-stools, some on 
rude benches, some on the floor, many standing at 
the entrance of the tent. The interest of the occa- 
sion was greatly increased by the presence of Mrs. 
General Hays, who was then on a visit to her hus- 
band, Mrs. General Jameson, Mrs. Maria Hayes, the 
excellent matron of our hospital, whom all loved as 
a mother, and Miss Gilliam, and Miss Herr, who, 
with a self-denial ever to be commended, had be- 
come nurses in our hospital. The season was one 
of the greatest interest and pleasure. It was the 
bursting of sunshine through the darkness that had 
hung over us like a pall. It gave hope of future 
beneflt and enjoyment; it reminded us of home ; it 
was almost a church. Many eyes swam in tears, 
and many voices choked with emotion as we sang, 

*' Jesus, lover of my soul," 

And again, 

" The Lord's my Shepherd, 
I '11 not want.'' 

The tent gave me the theme of that morning. I 
told them the history of its purchase, of the generous 
proffer of further aid, of books, etc. etc. ; and that 
these were but slight tokens of the deep interest felt 
in their welfare at home. I reminded them of the 
scenes attending their departure from home; of the 



SERVICES IN THE TENT. 57 

prayers, tears, and vows of the last Sabbath they 
spent amongst their kindred; of the irrepressible 
anguish of their mothers, wives, children, and sis- 
ters when they parted with them ; of the promisee 
they had made. They had never kno^vn before how 
large a place they had filled in the hearts of those 
who loved them. I reminded them that at this very 
hour, as their parents and kindred were assembled 
in the houses of worship, they were in the hearts of 
all, and the holy song was broken by sobs, and 
faces of prayer w^ere wet with tears, because they 
were not there ; how essential they were to the hap- 
piness and life of many. I alluded to the hundreds 
of letters we were every week receiving, all breath- 
ing the same sentiment, exhorting and entreating 
them by all that was dear and sacred to follow the 
teachings of their ministers, and to revere the mem- 
ories of home ; and there was committed to them 
the most sacred of all trusts, — the earthly happiness 
of those to whom God had bound them. I asked 
them if they could be so cruel as to blast the hopes 
and embitter the life of one that loved them, and 
bend down their venerable parents with a weight 
that would crush them to the grave ; and if they 
thought there was any sacrifice . too great for them 
to make for those in whose hearts they were daily 
borne. I reminded them of the incurable anguish 
they would endure if they heard of their sins ; that 
they had fallen before temptation, had gone to dens 
of shame, had indulged in drunkenness, had become 
profane : to themselves these sins would bring only 
evil now, and in the end remorse. Yet they might find 
some relief from conscious degradation in the ex- 



58 THE SOLDIER AND HIS MOTHER. 

cilemeiits of the camp, in the occupations and activ- 
ities of a soldier ; but what balm could be found to 
heal the hearts they had broken, and who could 
comfort those who mourned over their sons as fallen 
from virtue and piety ? I exhorted them, for the sake 
of all whose interests they represented, not to fall 
into sin, but to shun those evil ways which set on 
fire of hell the whole course of nature. And if they 
were determined to have nothing to do with re- 
ligion, and to dismiss from their hearts all fear of 
God, yet every sentiment of naanliness and every 
principle of honor demanded they should not dis- 
grace the name they bore. They were here the 
representatives of their fathers' houses ; and if they 
were churlish, quarrelsome, drunken, and profane, 
they not only degraded themselves, but dishonored 
their parents, — for the tree was judged by its fruits. 
I mentioned the case of a young soldier of a neigh- 
boring camp, who had fallen since he left home into 
many of the sins of the army, who, while playing 
cards, had become angered, and broken out into 
such blasphemy as confounded even his companions. 
"While still angry and disputing, some one handed 
him a letter just brought into camp. It was from 
his mother, and she a widow. After he had read 
the first few words the letter fell from his hands, 
and he burst into tears, exclaiming, "My mother! 
my mother ! If she knew of my sins, she would die 
of a broken heart ! " Then, lifting the letter again, 
he read a few more lines and sobbed out, "Yes, 
mother, I will, I will, I will read the Bible you gave 
me. I will try to pray : I will break ofi* my sins. 
Oh, my mother, I thank God you do not know how 



EVENING SERVICE. 59 

low I liave sunk!" And with many passionate 
exclamations and tears he continued to read the 
words of warning and love. One by one his com- 
panions went out and left him alone with his mother. 

I entreated them to remember that the habits of 
sin, once contracted, were not easily thrown off. 
Some thought that sin was as easily cast out of the 
soul as a snow-flake was shaken from the hand. 
But this was against all human experience ; " for 
sooner shall the Ethiopian change his skin, and the 
leopard his spots, than those who have learned to do 
evil shall learn to do well," etc. And with many 
other like words I reasoned with them. 

The eft'ect of this address was most manifest. All 
listened with increasing interest ; many with tears. 

At night, I again preached on Luke xii. I urged 
to the confession of Christ, and spoke of the danger 
and temptation to which they would be exposed, — 
the perils of sickness and battle ; and they needed 
above ever;yi:hing to be made hopeful and strong by 
faith in an almighty, merciful, ever-present Friend. 
The impression of the morning was increased at 
night, and many retired to weep and pray. And on 
this day commenced one of the most remarkable 
seasons of religious solemnity I have ever seen. 
This interest continued unabated in power until 
we were broken by sickness and battle in the 
Peninsula. 

During these months, hundreds in the camp found 
the highest joy in religious meetings, and with ever 
new pleasure they came together to hear the gospel. 
It was a season never to be forgotten. Nearly all 
the munnuring and discontent of the camp passed 



60 FOEMATIOK OF A CHURCH. 

away. The men were sober, quiet, and cheerful. 
Some who had been for years dissipated, abandoned 
the cup, and never, within my knowledge, afterwards 
fell. Others, who had ever been a burden to their 
families, now confessed their guilt, and sent home 
the humble acknowledgment and promise of amend- 
ment. Others laid open long-concealed sins, and 
sought instruction in regard to what they should do 
to make atonement for the wrong they had com- 
mitted. It was a time of great searchings of heart, 
and for many weeks my tent was crowded at all 
hours, when the men were ofi* duty, by those wishing 
to know the way of life. 

For the mutual protection and encouragement of 
those who desired to begin a new life, I resolved, 
after consultation with many officers and friends, to 
form a church in the regiment: "We had nearly one 
hundred men, officers and soldiers, who were mem- 
bers of various churches. For harmony, it was es- 
sential to form the church on principles common to 
all. I therefore drew up a form of doctrine and 
covenant to which all could assent, and which would 
bind us in unity, and bear with it all the sanctity of 
a sacred agreement. 

Before the communion I devoted every hour when 
the men were in camp in visiting from tent to tent, 
and talked with each one separately, or in the tent 
circle, in regard to their religious hopes and views. 
I endeavored as far as possible to ascertain their 
home history, that I might more perfectly identify 
myself with them in sympathy, and adapt my in- 
structions to their moral and spiritual state ; for I 
found hivari ably that there were some events, ecenes, 



SPIRITUAL INQUIRIES. 61 

and instructions wliich permanently impressed the 
character for good or evil, as if the human mind was 
only now and then, and at long intervals, capable 
of being moved and changed. I endeavored to find 
what circumstance, what lesson, what deed had left 
behind an influence which survived all changes. I 
found in some cases the mind was embittered and 
permanently warped by some act of thoughtless or 
designed cruelty, long forgotten by the offender, but 
in the heart of him who had suffered, remaining like 
a viper's tooth, poisoning the very fountains of life. 
In others, some act of duplicity, some deed of hy- 
pocrisy, created distrust of all who bore the Christian 
name; and too blind and too unjust to see that a 
cause may be glorious, while he who represents it is 
base, they laid the crime of one at the door of all. 
In other cases, some lewd companion or vile book 
had debased in sensualism ; and the imagination had 
hung in all the chambers of the soul the pictures 
of evil. Again, there had been indulgence in 
childhood, and the suspension of parental authority 
at the season when it was most important, producing 
a restless aversion to all law. In fact, there were 
but few in whom the controlling elements were 
reason and conscience ; but the many were biased 
and led by their appetites, passions, and prejudices, 
by pride, vanity, and ambition ; and these emo- 
tions and vices impelled them in the path they had 
chosen, and rendered a change of character almost 
impossible. I made it my aim to gain the confi- 
dence of all, that I might successfully combat their 
errors, enlighten their understandings, and appeal 
to their consciences and better natures. This course 
6 



62 COMMUNION INCAMP. 

of visitation made me acquainted with tlie peculiari- 
ties and past liistoiy of each one, and enabled me, 
as I hope, to be more valuable at this time ; and my 
own constant study in regard to the things which 
most influenced the conduct of men, added to the 
plainness of my teachings at this period. 

Before the day of the communion we had a suc- 
cession of storms. The mud was beyond fable. 
The men were confined to their tents. This enabled 
me to more successfully visit them, — to sit down by 
their side without the fear of interruption. 

On Sabbath, February 9th, 1862, we organized the 
church, and received into its communion one hun- 
dred and seventy members, about sixty of whom for 
-the first time confessed Christ. At the commence- 
ment of the services I baptized six young soldiers. 
They kneeled before me, and I consecrated them to 
God for life and for death; the majority of them 
baptized, as it proved, for the dead. I then read the 
form of covenant and system of faith ; to which all 
gave their assent. 

I then read the names of those who wished 
to enter this fold in the mlderness, enumerating 
them by companies ; those who had made a profes- 
sion of religion at home, and came to us as members 
of Christian churches ; and those who now came out 
as the disciples of the Redeemer. 

Then followed the communion service. This was 
one of the most afifecting and impressive seasons of 
my life. The powers of the world to come rested 
on all minds. The shadow of the great events so 
soon to follow was creeping over us, giving earnest-' 
ness and an impressive solemnity to all hearts. P. 



COMMUNION IN CAMP. 63 

was a day never to be forgotten, as a commencemeno 
of a new era in tlie life of many. It was a scene on 
which angels might look down with unmingied 
pleasure ; for here the weary found rest ; the bur- 
dened, the peace of forgiveness ; the broken in 
heart, beauty for ashes. Our position increased in 
a high degree the interest of the occasion. We were 
far from our churches and homes, yet we found 
here the sacred emblems of our religion ; and, look- 
ing into a future which we knew was full of danger, 
sickness, and death to many, we here girded our- 
selves for the conflict. It much resembled the 
solemn communions of Christians in the time of per- 
secution. Our friends who were present from a dis- 
tance, of whom there were several, rejoiced greatly 
that there was such a scene in the army. General 
Jameson was deeply moved, and afterwards said it 
was the most solemn and interesting scene of his life. 
Again on Sabbath, March 9th, the religious in- 
terest continuing, we held another communion. At 
this time twenty-eight were received into the church. 
Seven young men were baptized. The interest was 
even greater than at the former communion ; and it 
gives me now the greatest satisfaction to know that 
this season, which gave to many the highest enjoyment 
ever known on earth, where the cup of thanksgiving 
was mingled with the tears of gratitude, prepared 
for the sacrifice that was to follow. Many who were 
there never again partook of the -wine of promise 
until they drank it new in the kingdom of God, and 
sat down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb. My 
friend Dr. Crawford was never again at the Lord's 
table J but was then prepared, by the peace like a 



64 LETTER OP MANSFIELD BROWN. 

river, for entering upon the blessed rest. And many 
others found their beds softened in sickness by the 
remembrance of the consecration and joy of those 
sacred seasons. Others were made tranquil and even 
triumphant in death, by the vision of the Saviour 
whom they had first met in the breaking of bread in 
the camp. 

Mansfield Brown, Esq., of Pittsburg, was present 
at the last communion. His impression and report 
of the scene deserves a place in the record of mercy, 
and will be read, by every one into whose hands 
this book falls, with pleasure and profit : 

"Dr. McKinney : — Dear Sir : — I know it will give 
you pleasure to hear how I spent the Sabbath, 
March 9th, in the 63d regiment. Colonel Alexander 
Hays, near Fort Lyon. 

"As you are well aware, there has been for some 
time quite a revival of religion going on. A most 
interesting, soul-stirring state of things exists among 
them. God is certainly largely blessing them. Never 
did I see men so deeply in earnest. 

"In the morning, at eleven o'clock. Dr. Marks 
preached in the tent-church to as many as filled the 
two tents. At the close he said that as it was likely 
the regiment would move soon, he would hold a 
communion that night, and invited any persons 
wishing to join, to meet him. 

"At two p. M. we held a most solemn and touching 
prayer-meeting. The prayers of the soldiers were 
very ardent and to the purpose. I conversed with 
many dear young men in their tents and alone, who 
readily acknowledged their need of salvation. 



LETTER OF MANSFIELD BROWN. 65 

"At night, the tents were crowded to excess ; and, 
as the evening was pleasant, the ends of the tents 
were opened and an eager crowd pressed around. 
A small, rude table was used ; common bread, wine 
made of grape-jelly and water, and two glasses, were 
placed in the centre. Our tents were lighted by 
three candles, swung from the centre. Familiar 
words were well sung. A few introductory remarks 
and a prayer, then eight stalwart soldiers kneeled 
around the table and were baptized ; the bread and 
wine were then passed to communicants ; even out- 
side the tents all eager to obey the command, ' This 
do in remembrance of me.' Everybody was weep- 
ing. Twenty-nine joined on profession, — the whole 
membership now being one hundred and eighty- 
eight. We had sweet singing while Elder Danks 
(captain) and myself distributed the sacramental ele- 
ments. Surely, God was there. And it was well 
calculated to remind us of that dark night in which 
it was instituted. It was a most solemn, impressive 
scene, and one never to be forgotten. "We closed it 
by all audibly uniting in saying the Lord's Prayer, 
and parted, — never all to meet until we meet at the 
marriage-feast in heaven. 

" The soldiers are obliged to put out lights and re- 
tire at tap of the drum ; but a few of us spent an 
hour yet in devotion, singing, and conversation in 
Captain Danks's tent. It was a good meeting. To 
witness the men's deep emotion at any reference to 
their families in prayer, and then to hear them say, 
' We can die without fear and leave the loved ones 
with God, content, so our glorious flag is sustained,' 
gave confidence in the success of our country's cause. 
6* 



66 LETTEK OF MANSFIELD BROWN. 

" I stepped into a tent in wliicb. were five young 
men, SablDatli morning. Three were reading their 
Testaments ; had a pointed conversation with them ; 
found they had all been well trained at home ; all 
knew what was their duty ; three of them joined the 
glorious army to-night. Another fine, well-trained 
young stranger had been halting and hesitating, 
though greatly exercised for some time ; four of his 
mess had joined, the fifth having died suddenly. He 
said every letter from hi^ good father and mother urged 
and entreated him to seek religion, but he doubted 
his fitness. He was that night baptized and com- 
muned, and afterwards told Dr. Marks how happy 
and thankful he felt. His load was all gone. He 
intends to be a preacher. 

"On Monday morning, among the first persons I 
saw was a stalwart man coming out of the Doctor's 
cabin, weeping. He grasped my hand and said he 
was so happy. The Doctor has written to me since 
that the good work is still increasing. May it go on 
until every dear soldier in our army shall become a 
good soldier of the cross ! " 



THE DESOLATION OF WAR. 67 



CHAPTER Y. 

Scenes in the Neighborhood of Mount Vernon — The Quakers — 
Their Loyalty — The Washington Family, and Traditions of 
General Washington — The Lewis Estate — Our Pickets in that 
Neighborhood — The Old Church of Washington at Pohick — 
The various Great Estates in that Neighborhood — A Woman's 
Revenge. 

In this neighborhood the most of the farms were 
in a poor state of cultivation. The land was ex- 
hausted, and the appearance of the fields anything 
but pleasant to an agriculturist. There were many 
beautiful modern houses, but these evidently did not 
represent the generosity of nature, but were the 
fruits of wealth, gained from some other source than 
the soil. But at this time these beautiful houses 
were green spots in a desert. All around there was 
desolation. ' The fences had been burnt for camp- 
fires, the outhouses torn down for tents, the horses 
and mules of the army roamed without limit over 
all their lands, the encampments were in the or- 
chards, meadows, and gardens. But few families re- 
mained to be witnesses of their ruin. At the ap- 
proach of our troops they had fled. 

The country back of Alexandria for many miles 
has all the aspects of a blighted land. The original 



68 MOUNT VERNON. 

forests have been cut down, and on tlie old ex- 
hausted fields have sprung up pines, thickets of 
dwarf oaks, thorn trees, and briars ; and thus the 
very forests add to the unsightliness of the scene. 
There is enough diversity in the landscape to make 
a most beautiful country; but in a land that is 
weary of man, and where all the furrows of the field 
complain of him, every traveller is compelled to 
sympathize ^vith nature. 

Momit Yernon is about nine miles from Alexan- 
dria, down the Potomac. The main road, that has 
been used for two hundred years, winds over the 
hills near Fort Lyon, passes the estate of George 
Mason, Esq., and again descends from the height 
into the valley of the Accotink. The first four 
miles of this way carries the pilgrim for Mount 
Yernon over desolated fields, through low and 
shaggy woods ; but at length the road reaches the 
summit of the hills embosoming the Mount Yernon 
estate, and a vision of rare beauty bursts on the eye. 
We looked down on green fields and meadows, 
white farm-houses nestling in orchards and vines, 
barns and outhouses which betokened abundance 
and wealth, good roads, and long lines of evergreens 
overshadowing them, like faithful sentinels guard- 
ing the ways. By patient industry these lands have 
been redeemed, and Mount Yernon made again at- 
tractive, — as if when those who bore the venerated 
name of Washington were no longer influenced by 
his example and virtues, others were sent to secure 
from abandonment and restore to primitive fertility 
an estate sacred from the name and ashes of the 
Father of his Countr}^ Of the Washington family 



PURCHASE OF MOUNT VERNON. 69 

no descendants now remain on the Mount Yernon 
estate, or in the neighborhood. 

The estate of John A.Washington is a part of the 
original Mount Yernon property. To my surprise, I 
found this man quite popular with his Quaker 
neighbors. To them he was the kind and generous 
friend, and to his negroes an easy and gentle master. 
But he was improvident and intemperate, and every 
year found him in deeper indebtedness and nearer 
to bankruptcy. 

At length the sale of a portion of the estate be- 
came a necessity. Then opened that degrading 
spectacle of one who bore the most honored of 
names, appearing before his country as willing to 
prostitute to infamy the spot sacred to mankind, as 
containing the house and tomb of Washington. 

The country was saved from this last degradation 
by the timely intervention of certain patriotic ladies, 
who came forward and purchased the estate, when 
John A. Washington was negotiating its sale to 
blacklegs and gamblers, who proposed to fit up the 
grounds as a watering-place, for the amusement of 
parties of pleasure. These enterprising gentlemen had 
extensive plans for public entertainment, and proposed 
to inaugurate every form of dissipation possible within 
the limits of decency ; and soon the whole country 
would have been shocked by hearing that there 
were masquerade balls in the room where Washing- 
ton died, and the orgies of drunkenness around his 
tomb. To prevent this the ladies interposed, and 
paid Mr. Washington one thousand dollars per acre 
for two hundred and fifty acres. This included the 
fields around the house, — the orchards planted and 



70 RELICS AT MOUNT VERNON. 

the gardens laid out by Washington. Certain per- 
sons now hold the estate in trust for those ladies. 
Some of them reside on the premises ; and, under 
their eye, the house is being reconstructed, the 
walks renewed, the walls rebuilt, and the fences re- 
paired. They design to restore the grounds to the 
state in which Washington left them ; and with the 
most commendable self-denial they remain in the 
old mansion, and, almost in the solitude of nuns, 
live to accomplish their promises to the public. 

'Not much remains to remind one of the great and 
good man who spent the last years of his life here, 
and from this dwelling passed from the shadows of 
earth to the visions of another world. There are only 
one or two portraits, a few venerable chairs, some pic- 
tures of hunting-scenes, one of the battle of Bunker's 
Hill, but not one of any of the scenes in which Wash- 
ington was the principal actor. In this, as in every- 
thing else, he displayed his good taste and the mod- 
esty of true greatness. On the walls in the great 
hall of the dwelling hangs the key of the Bastile, 
sent from France to Washington, as one of the em- 
blems of European despotism laid at the feet of the 
great Liberator of the ISTew World. 

One or two autograph letters of Washington re- 
main, written in the full round hand, without blot 
or erasure, which distinguishes all the productions of 
his pen. One of these was a letter of sympathy 
sent to the Rev. Mr. Fairfax, then in Alexandria, on 
his way to England in pursuit of health ; and is full 
of kindly reminiscences, and assures the sufferer 
that nothing but the inclemency of the weather pre- 
vented Mrs. Washington and himself paying him 



THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 71 

their respects before his departure. Tliis letter was 
written but a few months before his death. 

The tliousand traditions of the neighborhood only 
confirmed the impression I had before received, that 
the life of Washington at Mount Vernon was most 
simple and unostentatious. His house was open to 
all his neighbors, and he was the friend and coun- 
sellor of the poorest. 

His love of order was one of his most marked 
characteristics. Every appointment must be ful- 
filled at the moment. Settlements must be made 
on the very day the account or note fell due. 
On one part of his estate, four miles from Mount 
Vernon, are now found the ruins of the old mill to 
which Washington rode on Thursday, the 12th of 
December, 1799, to settle with the miller, and to re- 
ceive his accounts for the year. He remained until 
in the afternoon, and rode home in a violent snow- 
storm, and never recovered from cold taken on that 
day. On the following Saturday night, he died of 
croup or diptheria. 

His end was characterized by the remarkable self- 
possession which so signally distinguished his entire 
career. After the fatal symptoms were manifest on 
Saturday, he found great difficulty in speaking ; but, 
as well as he could, he gave instructions to his secre- 
tary to "record his letters and papers, to arrange his 
accounts, and settle his books." To his physician he 
said: "I feel myself going. You had better not 
take any more trouble about me, but let me go off 
quietly. I cannot last long." And again: "Doctor, 
I die hard ; but I am not afraid to go. I believed 
from the first I should not survive it. My breath 



72 SURROUNDINaS OF MOUNT VERNON. 

cannot last long." And again: "I should have 
been glad, had it pleased God, to die a little easier; 
but I doubt not it is for my good." And just before 
he died he closed his eyes with his own hands, folded 
his arms on his breast, breathing out, "Father of 
mercies, take me to thyself." And the last words 
he ever uttered were, '' 'T is well ! " Thus died one 
of those noble men for whose lives and virtues we 
feel thankful to heaven ; for they belong, not to one 
country, but to the human race. Showing us the 
attainments of which man is capable, they shine in 
our heavens like the star of the morning, heralds of 
that better day when justice and truth, piety and 
temperance, shall ennoble and beautify all the great 
of every clime. 

All the walks and paths about Mount Vernon 
were trodden as holy ground ; for along the same 
paths had been impressed the footsteps of Washing- 
ton. These trees had been planted by his hands ; 
on these flagstones under the portico had he often 
walked, and looked down on the Potomac; and 
there, under our eye, reared the obelisk which 
marks the spot where he lies until we shall all 
awake from the dust of the earth. Until then, his 
grave shall be a shrine to which his countrymen, 
and the good of all lands, will come, and learn to be 
patient in hope, and self-sacrificing for the future. 

During my walks about Mount Vernon, I met 
with an old slave of the Washington family, — Joe 
Carter. He now lives about five miles from the 
Mansion-house, in a cabin of his own. Old Joe is a 
negro of character, and bears a greater dignity be- 
cause a member of the most illustrious family This 



JOE CARTER. 73 

mau told nie that lie was three months old when 
General Washington died ; and that the general, 
some time before his death, emancipated all his 
negroes, three hundred and sixty in number, but 
that nearly all of them remained and worked on the 
estate ; that the general was always good to his 
slaves, and would not permit them to be beaten or 
ill used. 

He also said that Mrs. Washington had three hun- 
dred slaves, and the general had proposed to purchase 
these from his wife and set them free. She hesitated 
for some time what to do, but at length decided not to 
accept the offer; for the paying for them would too 
seriously embarrass the estate, and she had too many 
23oor kinsmen to permit her to emancipate all her 
colored people. 

Joe bears a high reputation as a man of truth and 
piety. He is industrious, and lives in a cabin on his 
own ten acres. 

"AVliat are you doing, Joe," said I, ^'for another 
life ? Are you a Christian ? ' ' 

'' Oh yes, massa. Dis nigger 'bleve in de Lord 
Jesus. Religion de mostest beautiful ting in dis 
world. Ole Joe he do drink, cuss, and swear awful. 
De Lord he make Joe a temp'rance man, and bress 
de Good Massa, he radder die dan cuss. Yes, 
massa, religion is de hopenhand to dis ole nigger." 

There lives in the Quaker neighborhood a num- 
ber of families the descendants of the Washington 
slaves ; and from these may no doubt be gathered 
many most interesting traditions of the distinguished 
families and persons who have lived in this region. 

The Mount Vernon estate, as left by General 
7 



74 THE LEWIS ESTATE. 

Wasliington, was six thousand acres. This was, by 
his last testament, left to members of the Washing- 
ton family, and to Major Lewis, who married Miss 
Custis. The honse and property of the Lewis family 
were sold twenty years ago to John Mason, Esq., who 
now resides in the honse reared by Major Lewis in 
1804. The house was designed by General Wash- 
ington, and the grounds laid out as directed by him. 
This vast baronial dwelling stands on an elevation 
of three hundred feet above the Potomac, and com- 
mands a magnificent view of the hills of Maryland, 
the isles of the river, the house of Mount Vernon, 
and the hills around the valley of the Accotink. On 
this spectacle the eye never wearies of gazing. This 
portion of the estate has suifered, like the rest of it, 
from the extravagance and luxury of the proprie- 
tors, but more from their absence for a considerable 
portion of the year from their homes. iTearly all 
these old Virginia families were pensioners on the 
Government, and lived during the winter in Wash- 
ington ; hence, their estates near the capital were 
neglected, the great houses of their fathers sunk into 
ruinous heaps, and their fields became barren. 

Mr. Mason came from 'New Hampshire. Affcer a 
most adventurous life as a sailor, merchant, and 
captain of a trading vessel, he at length settled in 
Virsrinia as the owner of the Lewis estate. He was 
undoubtedly one of the most remarkable men whom 
I have met. Many of the great rooms in the Lewis 
House are now unoccupied, and one wing is in ruins. 
The rooms occupied by the family are great cham- 
bers; and as in ancient halls the sound of your 
footsteps awakened echoes which die away in the 



THE QUAKEPw SETTLEMENT. 75 

distance, and arouse the imagination as in a haunted 
scene, so here you are so far removed from all the 
living that you commune with the dead. 

There is in this neighborhood one of the most 
interesting communities in Virginia. Some thirty 
Quaker families from Pennsylvania and I*^ew Jersey 
came to this State many years since, and purchased 
a large poiiion of the Mount Vernon estate; and 
now form a society of very intelligent, loyal, Chris- 
tian people. In their hands, the poor, worn-out 
fields have become again fertile, and every year adds 
to the prosperity of this peaceful neighboroood. 
^Hiile in every direction around war has ravaged 
the land, and three-fourths of the farms are deserted 
and waste, here everything is as quiet, and the fami- 
lies as unmolested, as in time of peace. 

These men of peace are known to be hostile to 
the institution of slavery ; but by their uniform hon- 
esty and kindness they won the esteem of their dis- 
loyal neighbors ; and Avhen they fled before our 
troops, they left in the care of the Friends many 
things of value. When the Rebel pickets came 
through their neighborhood, and occasional cavalry 
scouting parties, they had instructions not to molest 
the Quaker families ; and when our lines extended 
beyond them, our soldiers and officers experienced 
the greatest kindness from this entire people, and 
we formed friendships which will last as long as 
life. 

It is very evident that this is destined to be one 
of the greenest spots in Virginia; for the economy, 
industry, and honesty of this people will secure to 
them wealth. Possessed of fields most amiable and 



76 DEBATABLE GROUND. 

generous, there can be no limit to their prosperity ; 
and another generation will be distinguished by all 
those arts and refinements which adorn the highly 
educated and virtuous. 

I have spoken of our picket-lines. These are the 
guards placed from three to ten miles in advance of 
our camp. The encampments of the enemy on our 
left wing were beyond the Occoquan, — a river that 
flows into the Potomac about three miles below 
Mount Yernon. About six miles from its mouth the 
Richmond road from Alexandi^ia crossed it at the 
village of Occoquan. The enemy's lines extended 
to this river, and Wigfall, with a force of thirty 
thousand, held the ferries, fords, and heights. Ac- 
cotink Creek flows into the Potomac a short distance 
above Occoquan Bay ; and the distance from one 
stream to the other in front of us was about three 
miles. Our lines extended to the Accotink, and be- 
tween these streams was the debatable ground run 
over by the scouts of both armies ; and occasion- 
ally parties of reconnoissance would from both sides 
collect forage, and surround houses supposed to har- 
bor spies and enemies. 

These parties would sometimes meet, and then 
there was one of those skirmishes which gave the 
men a greater taste for battle. The enemy, from 
their perfect acquaintance with the country and 
knowledge of the inhabitants, had the advantage. 
They could almost always in some way receive warn- 
ing of our advance, and would have time to flee, or 
lay an ambuscade. In many of these struggles we 
lost men, who were killed or taken prisoners ; but 
the loss of the enemy was fully equal to ours. The 



STATIONING PICKETS. 77 

wretched families living in this field of contest were 
in the most pitiable condition ; for they were under 
the protection of neither army, and were robbed and 
insulted by both. Their fields were stripped, their 
corn and wheat seized, their cattle and horses stolen, 
and, not permitted to cross within the lines of either 
army, they were reduced to circumstances of the 
deepest distress and want. From many of the houses 
thus occupied the men were gone, generally in the 
Confederate army; and when our men came to look 
into these dwellings, they were uniformly touched 
with pity. The entire family were sufiering from 
cold, sickness, and nakedness : the women in tears, 
and the children wan with huno-er. 

The regiments composing a brigade were sent out 
on this picket-service about once in three weeks. 
They remained on the outposts about three days, 
and then were relieved, and returned to camp. On 
this line our picket-posts were about one hundred 
yards apart. At one of these posts were placed ioLve 
or six men. At the posts they constructed a booth 
of boughs and trunks of trees. Within this they re- 
tired in stormy weather, and slept when ofi* guard. 
The men were placed in line generally along a road 
or path, and stood about twenty paces apart. There 
was a signal and countersign, and any one advancing 
to a picket was halted and asked to give the signal ; 
when this was given, he was ordered to advance to 
the point of the bayonet and give the countersign. 
If neither of these could be given, he was placed 
under arrest, and sent under guard to the head- 
quarters of the brigade general, and he, if not satis- 



78 THE PICKET-LINE. 

fied, sent the prisoner to the head-quarters of the 
major-gen eraL 

The approach to a picket-line is attended with 
great danger ; for the men are looking for an enemy, 
and more disposed to shoot than wait. If any one 
approached the picket at night, he was very liable 
to be shot; for the picket may halt the man ap- 
proaching, or not, as he pleases. 

It requires the utmost circumspection on the part 
of the officers, especially if fresh troops are on line, 
in approaching the pickets. I was once passing down 
the picket-line near Pohick Church, and, not having 
received the signal, I approached one picket-post. 
I heard the command, '' Halt! " but I supposed this 
was not for me. The next moment, as I advanced, ^ 
I heard the picket ask his officer, '' Shall I lire? " 
The presence of the officer saved my life. I had 
passed a great number of pickets, but was halted 
nowhere before. We lost one of our men in this 
way. There was anight alarm, — several guns, — 
and young Gardiner, hurrying up the line to inform 
his officer of strange appearances at his post, w^as 
challenged by a picket, and in his haste threw up 
Ms gun, as if about to rush on his challenger. The 
picket fired, and poor Gardiner lived but half an 
hou.r. He was from one of the German counties of 
Pennsylvania. The moment's hesitation in using 
the English language probably caused his death. 

The danger of the picket-line suggested the fol- 
lowing beautiful gem, of the authorship of which I 
am uncertain : 



THE PICKET-GUARD. 19 



THE PICKET-GUARD. 

" ' All quiet along the Potomac/ they say, 

* Except now and then a stray picket 
Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro 

By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 
^Tis nothing — a private or two now and then 

Will not count in the news of the battle ; 
Not an officer lost — only one of the men 

Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.' 

** All quiet along the Potomac to-night. 

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ; 
Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, 

Or the light of the watch-fire gleaming. 
A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind 

Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping, 
While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, 

Keep guard — for the army is sleeping. 

" There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread 

As he tramps from the rock to the fountain ; 
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed. 

Far away in the cot on the mountain. 
His musket falls slack — his face, dark and grim, 

Grows gentle with memories tender. 
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep — 

For their mother — may Heaven defend her I 

"The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, 

That night when the love yet unspoken 
Leaped up to his lips, when love-murmured vows 

Were pledged to be ever unbroken. 
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes. 

He dashes off tears that are welling, 
And gathers his gun closer up to its place, 

As if to keep down the heart-swelling. 



80 JOHN UNDERWOOD. 

" He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree, 

The footstep is lagging and weary ; 
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, 

Toward the shade of the forest so dreary. 
Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves, 

Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ? 
It looked like a rifle — ' Ha ! Mary, good-bye ! ' 

And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing. 

*'A11 quiet along the Potomac to-night, 
No sound save the rush of the river; 
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead — 
The picket's ofi" duty forever ! " 

In this section of Virginia there were but few fami- 
lies of true loyalty ; but there were memorable ex- 
ceptions. One was John Underwood, a prominent 
citizen, born and reared a slaveholder ; but having 
visited the Free States, he returned to Virginia con- 
vinced that the great curse of his native State was 
slavery. In conversation he stated in full his convic- 
tions to his fellow-townsmen, and uttered sentiments 
which sounded in their ears as insurrectionary and fa- 
natical. He was at this time one of the judges of the 
county court. They resolved to hurl him from the 
bench, and the judges came to the court-room armed, 
with the intention of shooting him if he advanced to 
his usual seat. But Mr. Underwood was there before 
them, took his seat, and laid his loaded and cocked 
revolver on the table before him. As the other 
judges advanced, he commanded them not to put 
one foot on the platform where he sat, or they 
should die. They yielded, sat at his feet, and he 
administ-ered the court ; and when the business was 
over, left the room, where a hundred faces were 



WILLIAMSON, THE GUIDE. 81 

black with anger and murder, without the quiver of 
a muscle. 

He farther braved the fury of the slaveholders 
and mob who followed them by erecting a Lincoln 
pole in the public square of Occoquan. He was now 
hunted as an incendiary and enemy to his State, 
fined by the court, and threatened with imprison- 
ment and death. 

At the commencement of the rebellion, he, with 
all those who had co-operated with him, was com- 
pelled to seek safety with our army. After filling 
for months some post about Washington, when our 
troops took possession of all the country this side of 
the Rappahannock, Mr. Underwood went down to 
see his widowed mother ; and, in a Rebel raid, was 
seized and hurried away to Richmond, where, if 
alive, he now lies in one of their prisons. 

There was another man, named Williamson, who 
was valuable to us as a scout and guide. He was 
a shrewd, cunning man, who had been injured by 
some of the wealthy whites ; and revenge was, I 
feared, a stronger motive with him than a desire to 
benefit his country. We had heard through Wil- 
liamson that there was a large party of Rebels who 
crossed the Occoquan nearly every morning, and took 
position on a ridge of hills in front of us. Here they 
remained during the day in observation. A plan 
was laid for their capture. To efiect this. Colonel 
Hays selected about fifty men from different com- 
panies, who were commanded by Lieutenant-colonel 
Morgan. The men left our picket-line about three 
o'clock in the morning, and passed through dark 
pine forests, beyond a farm-house, on the way. 



82 THE AMBUSCADE, 

When they had gone about half a mile from this 
house, they came to the road which the enemy 
usually took from Occoquan. But they, for some 
unexplained reason, came up that morning by an- 
other way, and passed by our men almost within 
the touch of their hands ; but coming along a new 
path, there was felt some uncertainty in regard to 
who this strange company were. The impression 
of some of our officers was, that it was a body of 
our own men out on scouting duty. 

The enemy marched to the house, learned of our 
passing, and returned and laid an ambuscade for us. 
After remaining here nearly an hour, the colonel 
commanded the men to rise and march back to 
camp. They started to return, and had advanced 
more than one-fourth of a mile when the click of 
guns in the heavy forest arrested the four or ^nq in 
advance. They drew their pistols and peered into 
the darkness. Instantly the enemy fired, and Cap- 
tain Chapman, Lieutenant Lisle, and Moore, private 
in Company G, fell. ' Captain Chapman and Lieu- 
tenant Lisle died in a few moments, and Moore in 
less than an hour. 

Our men returned the fire and rushed into the 
forest, and drove the foe before them. The enemy 
lost by our fire three men, and in this number, it 
was said, their celebrated leader, Burke, who had 
distinguished himself as a picket murderer. 

It was all over in ^nq^ minutes, the enemy beyond 
pursuit, and our men in mute horror around the 
dead bodies of their officers. Captain Chapman 
was one of the most promising officers in the army. 
Of a courage that rendered him incapable of fear, 



THEKILLED. 83 

of great clearness and penetration of mind, and rapid- 
ity of decision, of most commanding personal appear- 
ance, with the eye of an eagle, he was the man to 
lead in daring exploits, and to become in the highest 
degree the idol of the soldiery. He was descended 
from a family in the north of L-eland, and his ances- 
tors had been from time immemorial engaged in the 
military service of Great Britain ; and, if I am not 
mistaken, he had at the time of his death two uncles 
high in rank in the East Indian Army. His fall — 
when there was opening before him so illnstrious a 
career, and in circumstances where no brave man 
would desire to die — gave to all his friends the 
deepest sorrow. Lieutenant Lisle was our quarter- 
master, and therefore a volunteer in this skirmish. 
He was a valuable officer, and deeply regretted by 
many in the army and at home. 

The regiment returned from picket-duty on the 
day that the officers were killed. The bodies were 
brought in, however, before the regiment reached 
camp. It was a spectacle that caused all hearts to 
cease beating. The wagon containing the dead 
drove to the tent of Captain Ryan ; then there was 
the pause of several moments in silent awe, as if 
each one dreaded the terrible disclosure. At length, 
one more adventurous than the others threw open 
to our gaze the marblelike faces of the dead. There 
had passed before each that great mystery which 
gives a solemn grandeur to every human brow. 

Most tenderly, as if sensitive to every touch, were 
they borne from the wagon to the tent, and laid in 
fitting positions. 

It was hard to convince ourselves that this was 



84 POHICKCHURCH. 

not a frightful dream. Was it possible that those 
who an hour before were the most active, whose 
voices were heard in command, who walked by our 
side full of plans for years to come, were now mo- 
tionless and silent forever, and that there had fallen 
between them and us a veil which no mortal can lift 
and live ? 

This sad event threw a gloom over the regiment 
for months ; and at every dress parade we looked in 
vain for the commanding figure of Captain Chap- 
man, and we were never called to a severe engage- 
ment without regretting that he was not there. Yet 
he is only one of the many thousands of the noble 
and the brave whom ruthless war has taken from 
our side. 

I have spoken of Pohick Church as one of the 
most remarkable relics of the days of Washington. 
This church stands to the left of the Eichmond 
road, and twelve miles west of Alexandria. The 
situation is beautiful, on the green hill above Pohick 
creek. It was built by various distinguished fami- 
lies who formerly lived in this neighborhood, such 
as the Lees, the Masons, McCartys, Washingtons, 
Fairfaxes, and Lewises. Of these families but few 
survive ; and these feeble remnants, like the frag- 
ments of a noble vessel broken on the rocks, have 
in them little to remind us of the greatness of the 
past. Our troops took possession of this church, 
and the walls were blackened with a thousand 
names. The seats were cut to pieces, and borne 
away as memorials of the church of Washington. 
The old square pews remained at this time, and 
the pew of Washington, nearly untouched, because 



POHICK CHURCH. 85 

probably not known as such by the soldiers. I ap- 
pend here an extract from Bishop Meade : 

"My next visit was to Pohick Church, in the vi- 
cinity of Mount Vernon, the seat of General Wash- 
in^on. I designed to pei'form service there on 
Saturday as well as Sunday; but, through some 
mistake, no notice was given for the former day. 
The weather, indeed, was such as to prevent the 
assemblage of any but those who prize such occa- 
sions so much as to be deterred only by very strong 
considerations. It was still raining w^hen I ap- 
proached the house, and found no one there. The 
wide-opened doors invited me to enter, as they do 
invite, day and night, through the year, not only 
the passing traveller, but every beast of the field 
and fowl of the air. These latter, however, seemed 
to have reverenced the house of God, since few 
marks of their pollution are to be seen throughout 
it. The interior of the house, having been well 
built, is still good. The chancel, communion-table, 
tables of the law, etc., are still there, and in good 
order. The roof only is decayed ; and, at the time 
I was there, the rain was dropping on these sacred 
places, and on other parts of the house. On the 
doors of the pews, in gilt letters, are still to be seen 
the names of the principal families which once oc- 
cupied them. How could I, while for an hour trav- 
ersing these long aisles, — entering the sacred chan- 
cel, ascending the lofty pulpit, — forbear to ask: 
And is this the house of God which was built by 
the Washingtons, the Masons, the McCartys, the 
Grahams, the Lewises, the Fairfaxes, — the house in 
which they used to worship the God of our fathers, 
8 



86' THE FAIRFAX ESTATE. 

according to tlie venerable forms of the Episcopal 
Church, and some of whose names are yet to be 
found on those deserted pews ? Is this also destined 
to moulder piecemeal away, or, when some signal is 
given, to become the prey of spoilers, and to be car- 
ried hither and thither, and applied to every pur- 
pose under heaven? " 

Has not this language all the impressiveness of 
prophecy ? Was there not to many minds in Vir- 
ginia a foreshadoAving of the doom near at hand? 
Did not many see dimly the hand moving on the 
wall? This struck me as more remarkable, for 
similar expressions fell from the lips of Jeiferson 
and Madison. 

In this same neighborhood, about three miles 
from Mount Yernon, on the heights over the Potomac, 
are found the broken walls of the house of Lord 
Fairfax. It is now a heap of rubbish, and large 
trees are growing out of the ruins. One can still 
trace the outline of the garden walls, and here and 
there a rose-bush and lily live and bloom amid the 
crumbling timbers and fallen bricks. 

The tombstone of one of the Lady Fairfaxes now 
lies broken in the forest overlooking the Potomac. 
On this she is described as " very beautiful and too 
pure for the world." 

Lower down on the Potomac is the celebrated 
Gunston Farm. This was the Mason estate, and 
for nearly a century the home of that renowned 
family. Here George Mason, who w^as distinguished 
amongst the early founders of our Government, 
lived and died. He was one of the signers of the 



GEORGEMASON. S7 

Declaration of Independence, and a member of 
Congress for many years. 

His son, George Mason, was reared to Ms father's 
profession, — a lawyer, — and was described to me 
as a man of most splendid gifts and varied accom- 
plishments, but of the most dissolute manners and 
basest passions. He had travelled extensively over 
Europe, mingled with the best society, and enriched 
his mind by converse with the greatest men of his 
times. All conceded that he was one of the most 
captivating of men. 

At the age of thirty he was known as the most 
abandoned of roues. He met in society a very 
charming young lady of the name of Powell. Her 
beauty, vivacity, and cultivation, though his heart 
was dead to love, induced Mr. Mason to propose 
marriage. This, after some hesitation, she accepted, 
not that she loved him, but her family were in mod- 
erate circumstances, and she married for position. 

It is to be hoped that there is to be found no- 
where in the history of man an instance of one who 
approaches the brutal excesses, the shameless vile- 
ness of Mason. His aim from the first was to sub- 
ject his wife to all those moral and social indignities 
which would degrade her and bring her down to 
his own level ; and by exposures the most revolting 
and vicious, to make her the pity and scorn of her 
slaves. For twenty years she bore his brutality, 
exiled herself from society, only finding enjoyment 
in the company of her child, and some peace in the 
days' and weeks' absence of her husband. And 
to her honor be it recorded, that she rose above 
that slough of odious putridity, like the western li]y, 



88 GEORGE MASON. 

that blooms and exhales its sweetness in the midst 
of death. 

But there is an end to wickedness on the one 
hand, and suffering on the other. Mason died in 
his prime. Around his bed in his last hours stood 
many relatives and friends of the family, and the 
injured wife. "When the curtain had fallen between 
the dead and the living, she closed Mr. Mason's 
eyes, and said aloud to all "that this was the first 
act that she had performed for her husband in 
twenty years with pleasure." It was the voice of 
nature and virtue, expressing the sense of a great 
deliverance. The body of death was thrown off for- 
ever. But Mrs. Mason's womanly revenge was not 
yet fully gratified. She erected a tombstone over 
his dust, recorded his name, age, year and day of 
his death; and below is found the following lines: 

"Brandy, Brandy, bane of life, 
Source of evil, cause of strife, 
If men could half thy vices tell, 
They v^^ould w^ish thee safe in hell.'' 

Such is the epitaph of one of the most gifted and 
talented men in Virginia, and who might have left 
a name of honor to his country and his family. Mrs. 
Mason lived on the estate some years, until her only 
son died in his youth. She then left the place, and 
now, if alive, resides with her relatives in another 
portion of the State. 



FAMILY SERVANTS. 89 



CHAPTER VI. 

The Slaves — Their Condition — Story of Hanson Yerly. 

The old family servants in Virginia are certainly 
the most interesting characters. They have most 
retentive memories, and take the greatest pleasure in 
relating the stories and histories of the past. Their 
dramatic .power and vivacity increases the interest 
with which one listens to their legends and tales. 
Certainly to the traveller there is no class of people 
in Virginia from whom so much that is valuable in 
tradition can be gleaned. 

The negroes of distinguished and wealthy fami- 
lies always felt exalted by being the property of 
such, and took upon themselves the airs of a slave 
aristocracy ; and in their churches and social gath- 
erings the respect they commanded, and position 
assigned them, were not decided by their own char- 
acter or appearance, but by the position of the mas- 
ter. Hence, the slaves of poor farmers or planters 
were treated with the greatest contempt by those of 
a wealthy and powerful family. 

1^0 man has a greater admiration for rank, and 

no one is so exacting in claiming all its privileges, as 

the negro, and none feels so keenly the degradation 

of poverty. The negro is the most gentle and 

8* 



90 NEGRO PECULIARITIES. 

kindly hearted of the human race ; and it is the 
greatest joy of his life to love and honor some one 
whom he thinks worthy of such worship : conse- 
quently, he wdll be found always reflecting the 
manners, conversation, and opinions of his master. 
Hence, one middle-aged negro will assume the grave, 
pompous manner of the old planter ; while his son will 
wear the smiling, courtly air of young master. The 
slave of a minister is always known by the solemn 
reflections he introduces, and his throwing into 
every sentence, " Speaking after the manner of 
men." Thus, the slaves exhibit the manners, char- 
acteristics, and life of the families to whom they 
belong ; and in all those qualities which awaken in- 
terest and sympathy, the negroes of Virginia are 
superior to the poor whites of the same State. The 
negro is much the most active, hopeful, and earnest: 
the white man is ignorant to a proverb, listless and 
indifferent to all present interests, and unconcerned 
about his future. 

But the negro has a much more lively, cheerful 
nature, and a shrewd aptitude for acquiring useful 
arts which throws the whites into the shade. And 
certainly, to all that is beautiful in song, sweet in 
music, and rich in eloquence, there is no man more 
alive than the negro. I have never known a people 
to whose better nature an appeal could be made with 
more certainty of response than to this race. And less 
than all men is his nature vindictive, but cheerful, 
contented, and patient. They speak of the wrongs 
they have suffered with a calmness and spirit of for- 
giveness which, if borne by white men, would place 
on their heads the crown of martyrdom. From all 



OVERSEERS.* 91 

I could learn, the old families of Virginia were 
kinder to their slaves, and more thoughtful for all 
their interests, than the class of masters who had 
recently risen to power. On large plantations there 
were, beyond doubt, many cases of aggravated 
wrong and cruelty ; for the overseers, as a class, 
were the most brutal and tyrannical of men, selected 
because they could wring the most labor from human 
sinews and bones. 

The master who owned more than fifty slaves 
could not have much personal knowledge of each of 
these ; and when the number reached hundreds, he 
could not have any such acquaintance with their 
characters and wants as would give them any secu- 
rity against wrong. It was in the power of the over- 
seer to inflict on each of these the deepest injuries, 
and to drive the slaves to madness and murder, and 
yet the master be ignorant of all that was going on. 
In many cases even a humane master shut his e^^es 
to the cruelties of his overseer ; for, in order to make 
anything from slave labor, the authority of the over- 
seer must be sustained. The uniform testimony of 
the slaves was, that the sorrows of their state were 
increasing every year. The trade in negroes broke 
up their family relations, and rendered the servants 
unhappy and distrustful. The faces of their masters 
were against them, and one act of cruelty made 
necessary many more. Something of that universal 
impulse felt by the human mind in all lands, found 
its way into every slave cabin, and produced indig- 
nation where there was once patience ; restlessness 
where there was formerly contentment ; anger and 
the purpose of revenge in the place of humble sub- 



92 VISIT TO HANSON. 

raissioii. If the war had not broken out, the status 
of slavery in Virginia could not have long continued. 
There were many signs that the volcanic fires were 
heaving, and the earth was trembling beneath their 
feet. 

I think one of the most interesting chapters in 
the history of man might be written from the narra- 
tives of slaves now in our army. 

While our camp was in the neighborhood of 
Alexandria, I often heard of the wisdom and piety 
of a colored man living near, who was called Han- 
son. I invited my friend, and almost companion, 
Dr. Crawford, to go on a visit to Hanson. I was 
more anxious to see him, as I had learned from 
various conversations with different persons, white 
and black, that Hanson sometimes preached to his 
people, and had the highest reputation for sobriety, 
truthfulness, and industry. We soon reached his 
house, less than a mile from our camp. We intro- 
duced ourselves to his wife, whom we found a bright, 
pleasant-faced mulatto woman of about forty. The 
house was neat, well whitewashed, covered with 
vines without, and carpeted within. We saw about 
the place three children, much superior to their 
class in Virginia in manner and dress. They were 
able to read, and we saw several excellent books 
arranged on the stand. 

One of the children was sent to call Hanson from 
'the field. While the child was absent, we learned 
from the woman that her husband had purchased 
some years before the ten acres of land upon which 
they were living; and, after clearing it, planted 
some trees, and made the garden. Before the war 



HANSON'S STORY. 93 

they succeeded very well in sustaining themselves 
by raising vegetables for the market ; but now the 
soldiers stole at night their tomatoes, cabbages, 
potatoes, and fruit, and reduced them to the neces- 
sity of selling pies and cakes in camps, and washing 
for officers. There was no bitterness in her man- 
ner: their injuries were borne with the unmurmur- 
ing patience of the race. 

In a few moments Hanson came in. He was a 
'man of powerful frame, fully six feet high, with a 
face much more Anglo-Saxon than African ; of re- 
markable dignity and gravity of manner, reminding 
one of many of the Virginia gentlemen of the olden 
school, whose style of speech, looks, and demeanor 
were much more English than American. "While 
apparently not broken mth age, his head was as 
white as snow ; but there still remained much of the 
force and vivacity of manhood. He thanked us for 
coming to see him. After we had conversed with him 
a few moments, some allusion was made to his long 
and possibly eventful life ; and we expressed a de- 
sire to hear from him some of the most noteworthy 
incidents of his history. He very willingly com- 
plied. 

In the following story, as we received it from his 
lips, I do not profess to give, in all instances, the 
precise words he used ; neither do I give any Afri- 
canisms, for these were not noticeable. 

HANSON'S STORY. 

"My mother, I was told, was a fair octoroon 
woman : she was the slave of my young master's 
father. My father was a white man, a Scotch or 



94 hanson'sstory. 

English gentleman, one of those who, in old times, 
came from the old country to visit their relatives in 
Virginia. I never saw him. He went back, soon 
after I was born, to the land beyond the sea. My 
mother died when I was a little child, — my only 
recollections of her are those of a pale, sickly-look- 
ing woman, but to me very beautiful, who often 
hugged me in her arms and sung me to sleep ; and 
would you believe me, old as I am, I often dream of 
my mother, and always as pressing me to her bosom, 
and singing her lullaby. I was a poor child when 
she died, for I had no one to love me ; but I can 
well remember of crying and sobbing in bitter grief, 
and asking old master ' when they would bring back 
mamma from the ground?' 

" When I was about seven years of age, I began 
to hold master's horse, and to run errands. I soon 
began to wait at table, and became the favorite of 
young master. He was two years my senior, and 
acted constantly as my protector, and never allowed 
me to be maltreated or wronged. He made me his 
confidant, and poured into my ear all his plans for 
the future. As I could not read, he often read to 
me striking stories, and histories of travel ; and re- 
lated, when he returned home, the news of the 
neighborhood. My young master was an only son. 
He had sisters ; but he needed a boy to open his 
heart to, and who would always look up to him as 
better than any one else, and even as the wisest boy 
in the world. At all events, I was a favorite with 
my young master, and better treated than the other 
slave children ; and as I was his companion, rather 
than his slave, in those times, I felt but little of the 



hanson'sstory. 95 

weight of those chains that were afterwards so heavy. 
My young master was gay, and fond of company ; 
and as he had many relatives in other counties, he 
was nearly half his time from home, and visited 
some of the most reputable and wealthy people of 
the State. This gave me, as I always attended him, 
an opportunity to see much of the country. 

"At that time, master, there was no trade in 
slaves. We were happier, less oppressed, and treated 
more like human beings, than afterwards. After 
we had passed three or four years in this way, my 
master met a young lady of Prince William county, 
by the name of Taylor, the daughter of Colonel Tay- 
lor, and became attached to her, and proposed mar- 
riage. I was with him when he went to bring 
home his bride, and I never can forget the gayety 
and splendor of that time. It was in the month 
of May, and everything was in the finest bloom. 
We went down in carriages, several of master's 
friends going with him. We drove to Colonel Tay- 
lor's in the morning, and looked on a scene such 
as is only once beheld in our lives. There was, as 
in front of most of the Virginia houses in those days, 
a long avenue of evergreens, poplars, and chestnuts. 
Along this avenue were all the slaves of this family, 
dressed in their best, some in white, with great tur- 
bans on the heads of the women, as was the custom 
in those days. All were dancing, and in a thou- 
sand ways showing how much they were interested 
in the occasion. Coming nearer to the house, the 
carriages and wagons of the neighbors and friends 
of the family lined both sides of the avenue. As we 
approached nearer, the sight was beautiful, master; 



96 hanson'sstory. 

sucli a multitncle of ladies, so beautifully dressed, so 
gay and happy : to look upon tlieir smiling faces, 
you would think there was no sorrow^ in the world. 
Indeed, I have never forgotten it ; and often now 
the scene comes up before me, and I find myself 
saying, ' Where are they ? ' 

" I remember one of the great figures in the scene 
was the old minister, with his light silk stockings, " 
silver shoe and knee-buckles, white gloves, and pow- 
dered hair. We never see such sights now, such 
beautiful ladies, nor such noble-looking men. 

"But in the joy of that time commenced my first 
sorrow. Our vouns; mistress was severe, and never 

I/O J 

satisfied with the slaves ; and from being the hap- 
piest and most contented of people, we became mo- 
rose and unmanageable. 

" Even my young master gradually changed, and 
became severe and exacting. He had often promised 
that, when I reached the age of thirty, he would give 
me my liberty. I had been foolish enough to look 
forward in hope to that time, and to fill my soul with 
the dream of freedom. 

" I had already married a young woman, a slave 
of master's. She was a good woman, as light in 
color as myself; and I had arranged in my own 
mind that I would purchase my wife after I became 
free. 

"When I was thirty, master appeared to have for- 
gotten his promise ; and I could see that he thought 
a promise made to one of his own negroes was not 
binding. But he was still kind to me, and treated 
me with some of the old familiarity. I sought an 
opportunity of speaking to him on the subject. He 



HANSON'S STORY 97 

told me he could not then give me freedom ; he had 
too much work to do ; and if he gave me liberty, all 
the other slaves would become discontented, and de- 
mand the same thing ; and that his wife was opposed 
to it. But he promised that he would permit me to 
make as much by carpenter work during the year 
as I found possible ; and if I gave him one hundred 
dollars a year, he would be satisfied. 

"I was greatly disappointed. I cannot tell you 
how, for a time, my soul was full of anger towards 
God and man. But soon I remembered that I had 
not fulfilled my own vows to God, and my sin had 
found me out ; and I hope that my trial was a bless- 
ing to me in the end. 

"Just about this time the slave-trade commenced 
in Virginia. In my early remembrances there was 
no trade in slaves. If there were any bought and 
sold, it was in the settlement of estates ; and it was 
made a point of family honor to purchase all the 
slaves within the circle of the relatives, and not per- 
mit families to be separated. In those days people 
did not speak of negroes as cattle, and as without 
afiection for their children. 

" The most of the old planters were kind to their 
people, not oppressing them with severe work, nor 
driving them in the fields with cruel overseers. 
There were not much gambling, drinking, and horse- 
racing in those days. Indeed, I remember the old 
Virginia planters, such as Washington, Dr. Powell, 
Mr. Carter, Judge Washington, and old Mr. Mason ; 
they were temperate, kind, and just; but before I 
became an old man, all these good and wise men 
9 



98 H A N S N ' S S T R Y. 

were gone. Their sons were bad men, fouglit duels, 
drank, gaml^led, and were cruel to their slaves. 

" "Wlien I had been married four or ^ye years, a 
trader came from E'orth Carolina to Alexandria in a 
little schooner, loaded with bacon. For this there 
happened to be a great demand that year. This 
man had no intention of commencing a trade in 
slaves ; but some of the planters offered him a young 
boy or girl for bacon, and in this way he began to 
buy, and collected, I suppose, ten or twelve. 

" The next year he returned, and brought with 
him two vessels loaded with salt pork. At that 
time, master, we raised very little, in this part of 
Virginia, but tobacco ; and if the crop failed, the 
planters ha\dng to buy much of their meat, were 
hardly pressed ; and there appeared to be some ex- 
cuse for selling one slave for the benefit of many. 

"But the trader came back, and began to be 
called the 'bacon man.' This time he proposed to 
take slaves in exchange for his meat; he had 
opened a profitable trade. This year he bought a 
large number of slaves; poor planters, dissipated 
men in debt, ^vidows with estates they could not 
manage, — all now began to talk of selling slaves. 

" From this commenced a great trouble amongst 
^s — our hearts trembled with fear. To be carried 
away, and sold in those distant new States, was to 
us the occasion of far greater misery than our fathers 
endured in being stolen from Africa. Every autumn 
the 'bacon man' returned, and others came with 
him, and there was opened a great trade in negroes. 
"I never can forget the wretchedness of those 
years. We all felt as if a sword was hanging over 



Hanson's STORY. 90 

our heads, and as bad as if we had heard the death- 
angel strike three times on our doors. 

" Oh, what dreadful sorrows there were, master, 
in those years ! You have heard it said that slaves 
feel hut little, that we do not grieve as the whites ; 
but in this we are greatly wronged. We love more 
deeply, because we have but little to love. Our 
masters and mistresses have their carriages, farms, 
friends, offices, their slaves, their business ; but we 
have none of these : therefore to a neo-ro man all 
his life and happiness are in his cabin, and when 
you have taken away from him his wife and chil- 
dren, he has nothing left. Many have I known to 
die of a broken heart; others never had any joy 
again after a child or husband was sold away from 
them ; others I have known to commit suicide. 

'' When we saw the sails of the 'bacon man' un- 
furled, and his ships on the way down the Potomac, 
the panic of that year was over. And thoughtless 
and careless about the future as the slaves are, the 
fear of being torn from our friends, and sent away 
into dreadful hardships, settled like a heavy cloud 
on all our people. When we came together, it was 
to hear of some wrong or sorrow that set all our 
hearts on fire. 

''Then commenced that alienation which has e:one 
on ever since, becoming a deeper and deeper gulf 
every year. 

" It was no free white men that came amongst us, 
and telling us we ought to be free, that turned our 
hearts against our masters. E'o, it was the sale of 
our fathers and mothers, our children and brothers. 
It was the dreadful misery of those days when they 



lOO Hanson's story. 

were lying in tlie slave-pen, tliat made us cease to 
love tliem. 

"Very soon it was found, as tlie lands were be- 
coming poorer from the constant raising of tobacco 
on the same fields, that the most profitable thing for 
a planter was to raise slaves for the market. The 
people were becoming poorer, but this trade opened 
to them a new mine of wealth ; and, before many 
years, slave-pens were opened in Alexandria, and 
hundreds were chained together and sent South. 

"Charles, the body-seiwant of General Jackson, 
told me that one spring, after the adjournment of 
Congress, the general went from Washington to 
Richmond on horseback. As they rode along be- 
yond Alexandria, they overtook and passe'd one of 
these gangs of chained slaves. The general was 
filled with horror at the sight ; and when he passed 
them he heard him exclaim, ' My God, what a ter- 
rible sight ! ' ^ Master,' said Charles, ' what do 3^ou 
think of that?' 'Think,' said the general, 'I do 
not want to think; surely a day of judgment will 
come ! ' 

"During these years, when the miseries of the 
colored people were increasing fast, my desire for 
freedom grew to be a passion. I thought of it by 
day, and dreamed of it by night. Many things fa- 
vored my plan at this time. I was but little at 
home, but worked on difierent farms, and in Wash- 
ington. One year I labored in the city ; and after 
making one hundred dollars for my master, and 
giving some to my wife, I had fifty dollars left. 
This I deposited in the hands of a banker by the 
name of Jones, a good man, who had often em- 



HANSON'S STORY.. 101 

ployed me. This money I liad intended to nse in 
aiding me on my way to liberty. During all tliis 
year I had been maturing the plan for gaining my 
freedom. I had been learning all I could of the way 
to Canada, and had mapped out in my own mind all 
the streams and mountains of Pennsylvania and 
Maryland. At length, when we were coming to 
Christmas, I had all ready for my journey. I had 
committed my secret to no one, not even to my wife, 
and had been so much occupied with my plans, that 
I did not think very much of the sorrow I would 
have in parting with her and my children. But I 
went home to my cabin on Saturday evening ; the 
children were never so beautiful, and their ways so 
winning. Oh, master, I thought my heart would 
break ! 

" Often, during that evening, I had to leave my 
cabin and go out to weep ; and then would return 
and hug my children, as if I would take them into 
my heart, and carry them with me. That night was 
one of restlessness and prayer. I had no fear of 
being taken ; I felt certain I could escape, for I 
could be in Canada before my master would in- 
quire for me. But was it right to enjoy a boon 
which I could not give to my wife and children ? 
"Was it right to tear from them the great happiness 
of their lives? "Was it not cruel to subject them to 
the insult and wrong which my escape would cer- 
tainly bring upon them ? 

" I whispered not a word to my wife of my pur- 
pose, and she knew nothing of the cause of my great 
distress. I rose early in the morning, kissed my 
children, blessed them, bid farewell to my wife, and 
9* 



102 Hanson's story. 

promised tjoon to return. I crossed the Potomac, 
went to the house of Mr. Jones in Washington, drew 
my money, and wandered through" the streets until 
evening. My pLan was to commence my journey at 
night. When it hecame fully dark, I turned my face 
towards the IlN'orth, and crept along through the 
streets, and for the first time in my life, skulked 
like a thief. When I had gone beyond the houses of 
Washington, I had no more fear of being seen. 
Ah ! then my wife and children came up before me 
like my fingers. I could not see my way — my tears 
blinded my eyes. I felt their arms around my 
neck, and their soft faces on my cheek, and their 
little hands were pressing me back. I wandered, 
not knowing where I was going, until I found my- 
self standing on the bank of the Potomac, looking 
over at my cabin. I stopped, and reasoned with 
myself. Was not this the hour for which I had 
been planning for years ? And now, when all was 
ready, and the gates open, was I to be so foolish 
and soft-hearted ? Was not liberty worth more than 
everything I had ? Could I not, when I had found 
the way, come back for my wife and children ? I 
talked in this way with myself, master, and resolved 
to be free. I would not listen to my heart, but would 
have the satisfaction of breathing the air of Kberty, 
and of being my own master. 

^' I turned again towards the North, and when I 
had gone into the silence of the woods beyond the 
city, my wife and my children came up before me 
like my fingers. I tried to be strong : they appeared 
to look into my face and reprove me. I could not 
endure it; and I wandered without purpose, until 



Hanson's story. 10^ 

again I stood on the bank of the Potomac looking 
over at my home. Master, nature was too strong for 
me. This time I crossed and went to my cabin. It 
was not yet morning. I never tried it again. This 
satisfied me that it was not right for me to leave my 
family. I now took myself more earnestly than ever 
to my Lord. I learned to read, and obtained greater 
comfort than ever in the blessed gospel. I was hap- 
pier than for years, for the conflict in my bosom was 
ended. I still desired liberty, but committed my 
cause to my God. But one great sorrow followed 
on the heels of another. 

''First, my wife was seized with a cough and gradu- 
ally declined, becoming more beautiful and heavenly 
until she left us. This greatly increased my care 
and anxiety for my children. My daughters were 
taken into the house by our mistress, and she was not 
kind to them. My boy was too small to be sent 
into the fields to work : I was sent away to labor as 
a carpenter, and could rarely see my childi^en. I 
could, indeed, nearly always be at home on Satur- 
day night, and stay over Sabbath : sometimes I was 
too far away, and I had a constant anxiety about 
them. 

"My daughters were good-looking and smai-t, and 
I knew that master was offered a high price for them ; 
and when I thought of their being sold away from 
me, my heart died within me; and often, master, I 
have worked all day, and travelled ten miles at night 
to assure myself that my children were not sold. 

"'In those times, master, I was often angry, and 
my heart was very bitter. I thought of the hundreds 
I had made for master, and I had nothing; and I 



104 Hanson's story. 

could exj^ect no kindness or pity from him. I was 
at times very miserable, and knew not what would 
have become of me if my Lord had not laid his 
hand on me and said, ' Hanson, be still, I will help 
you.' And he did help me. I was never for- 
saken. 

"When I was nearly fifty, my master was taken 
ill, and continued to be unwell for three years : his 
disease was dropsy. Sometimes, for a few weeks, he 
would be nearly well, and then be brought very low 
again. During those years he was very kind to me, 
and often sent for me. At one of those visits I found 
him more unwell than usual; he was breathing with 
difiiculty, and greatly agitated. 'Hanson, you have 
been very faithful to me, and I have been very un- 
faithful to you. I promised you liberty many years 
since.' I said to him, ' Master, have no trouble about 
Hanson. Think of yourself and what is before you.' 
'OliI' said he, 'this is the thing that most distresses 
me. I have always intended at some time or other 
to be a Christian ; but while I was promising myself 
this, I had no thoughts of the difficulties I was daily 
gathering in my way, and that my procrastination 
was bearing me, like a ship broken loose, far out 
to sea ; and when I awake I know not where I am. 
I look up and can see no star, no sun, no beacon 
light, — all is darkness, pitchy darkness. What can 
I do ? To pray after I have so long sinned is like a 
mockery ; and when I ask for mercy and try to re- 
pent, there is so much to be done that I know not 
where to begin. Can I ask for mercy until in all 
things I try to make amends for the past ? I am 
hedo^ed about ; I know not where, to turn. What 



Hanson's story. 105 

can I do, Hanson ? Looking on the world and into 
eternity, as I ,now do, if the choice was offered 
me, I would gladly exchange with you; I would 
be born with the colored skin, begin life as a slave, 
and take all your sorrows, in order that I might 
have your hope and your Saviour. But, Hanson, I 
awake too late. Oh ! what shall I do ? where shall 
I turn for help ? ' I told him that our Lord was very 
merciful ; that he had pitied and saved the thief on 
the cross ; that he had healed the most miserable 
sinners ; and that he had spoken the parable of the 
Prodigal Son to encourage those who awoke to a 
sense of guilt and ruin, who felt that all they had 
trusted in had failed them, and all they had leaned 
on was broken. 'I Ivnow, I know,' said he, 'but 
how can I go to Christ? I have neglected him 
long ; I am full of guilt ; I have often, with my eyes 
open, broken the law of God; I have joined with 
scoffers, and when I knew that what they and I said 
was false and blasphemous. The thief never sinned 
as I have done. I cannot ask for mercy, for I must 
be honest with God. And when I plead with him 
to forgive me, I must try to break oft' all sin and 
make amends for the past. And where shall I 
begin? What shall I do with my 'negroes? If I 
emancipate them, I injure my family, and they will 
curse my memory : everything is wrong ; every way 
I turn there is a yawning gulf. I am like a ship- 
wrecked sailor cast on a naked rock — every way I 
look I see nothing but death. God! I wish I had 
never been born.' I fell on my knees and prayed 
God to show mercy to my poor, sinful master. He 
sobbed aloud, and covered his face with the sheet. 



106 Hanson's story. 

I rose to my feet and left the room, and this was 
the last time I ever saw him alive. . 

"A few days after his death, my mistress called me 
to her room. She said: 'Hanson, you have for a 
long time desired to he free ; your master spoke to 
me of it on his death-hed, and I promised him to 
see you, and propose a way hy which you may gain 
your liberty.' She then told me that my master had 
always liked me, and said that I was true and faith- 
ful to all his interests, and in consideration of this 
she would give me the opportunity of buying my- 
self, and would ask of me only one-half of what I 
would bring in the market. I replied to this: 'You 
know, mistress, how long and faithfully I have 
served you, making for you many hundred dollars, 
and now I am old, and cannot do much more. If 
you give me my freedom, I will promise never to 
be a burden to you or your children ; but to raise 
four hundred dollars I cannot promise. But liberty 
is so dear that if you insist on the money I will work 
until I die in order to raise it.' She said I could 
easily raise the sum ; and then, giving me not a word 
of comfort, with the cold look of one who was en- 
during a wrong rather than doing a favor, she dis- 
missed me. 

"I made a great effort to secure the offered free- 
dom. I went to some white gentlemen in Alexan- 
dria, and to Mr. Jones in Washington : they loaned 
me the money, and I was free. I cannot tell you 
how deep was my gratitude to God for this great 
and long-sought boon. 

" This event was soon followed by the removal to 
the vicinity of Richmond of my eldest daugnter, who 



HANSON'S STORY. 107 

went with her young mistress when she was married 
and moved there with her husband. My youngest 
daughter was now all that remained to me. She was 
a dear, kind child, and would bring far more in the 
market than I could soon raise; but if I had known 
that mistress would have listened to me, I would 
have toiled day and night to procure the money for 
her purchase. I was hoping that God would incline 
the heart of my mistress to give me the chance to 
buy her. But there fell suddenly on me a most ter- 
rible blow. On my return one night to my cabin, 
I heard that my daughter had been sold, and was 
then in the slave-pen in Alexandria. I hastened to 
the town, went to the slave prison, and said to the 
man at the gate, ' Can I see the trader?' He went 
for the man, who, when he came, treated me kindly. 
I asked him, 'Is there a young woman here named 
Lucy, the slave of Mrs. Tyrrel?' 'Yes,' he said, 
'there is such a young woman here.' 'Can I see 
her ? I am her father.' 'We cannot permit you to 
see her without a pass from her mistress.' ' That I 
shall never ask for; I am her father; I shall see her, 
but never until I stand with her and mistress in the 
judgment.' I left the prison a poor broken-hearted 
man. 

"I was now alone in the world. I rarely saw my 
mistress ; she shunned me, and I never sought her. 
In the course of a year or two she sold her farm 
here, and moved back to her father's neighborhood. 
I felt that my age would be cheerless and lonely, 
and, after some time, married a free woman, who is 
now my wife. We have lived happily together. 

"For years I have been looking for some great 



108 Hanson's story. 

trouble. The people here were far richer and more 
extravagant, and appeared to me much less religious, 
than those I remember in my youth. They had be- 
come cruel, and, without any mercy, had torn asun- 
der those whom God had bound together; and a 
great wail of sorrow and agony went up in the ears 
of heaven from all parts of Virginia — ^wives sorrow- 
ing for their husbands, husbands mourning for their 
wives, and parents weeping for their children, and 
would not be comforted. 

"I knew that a day of vengeance would come for 
all this, but I did not expect it to fall on us in the 
way of a war between the N^orth and South. I began 
to fear some heavy curse when the great gangs of 
chained slaves were first sent from Virginia, and 
that the day would soon come when the cup of our 
iniquities would be full. 

^' 'Now all these great and influential families have 
been ruined, and many of them are wandering beg- 
gars. I was a few days since walking in my garden, 
looking down on the country, and the change of a 
few months deeply affected me. I looked over on the 
house and farm of Mrs. Powell. I remembered the 
doctor, her husband, a very smart man, and her ^yq 
sons, the most popular young men in the country, 
and also her beautiful daughters. Her house was 
the resort of many elegant and wealthy people, but 
now her sons are in the Confederate Army, her 
house is a hospital, her beautiful garden trodden 
down, her orchards destroyed, and the fences all 
gone. 

" There is the house of Mrs. Lee, where, the week 
that Ellsworth was killed, one of her daughters wa8 



Hanson's story. 109 

married, and tlie house was filled with gayety and 
mirth ; now the grounds are in ruins, her furniture 
broken, and all the beautiful things she gathered 
are scattered. There, too, is the place of Colonel 
Hunter, his fields open, his barns burnt for fuel, and 
his house consumed to the ground; and likewise 
the place of General Lee, one of the finest in Vir- 
ginia, now used by your troops. His grain-fields 
and meadows were thrown open, and beaten as the 
high roads. 

''At these painful sights my soul was moved, and 
I cried, ' Lord ! why has this curse come on Vir- 
ginia?' And it appeared to me as plain as I ever 
heard human speech, a voice spoke to me and said, 
' man ! knowest thou the land most highly favored 
of heaven, and where, because God was good, men 
became desperately wicked, and inflicted the greatest 
wrongs?' And the voice said, 'Virginia.' Again I 
heard, 'Knowest thou, man! the land where hu- 
man beings were bred as cattle for the market, and 
where every year thousands of them were sent forth 
to a fate which they dreaded more than death?' 
The answer came, 'Virginia.' Again the voice 
said, 'Knowest thou the land where, in the midst 
of the greatest blessings, there has been the deepest 
misery ; where most faces were washed with tears, 
and most hearts torn with anguish ; and where the 
constant wail of distress, inflicted by man on his fel- 
low, was going up into the ears of God?' And the 
voice said, 'Virginia.' Again the voice said, 'God 
is just.' 

" Then," said the old patriarch, stretching out his 
arms, and lowering them as if he was relieving his 
10 



110 HANSON'S STORY. 

hands of a great weigM, " I laid my burden down. 
And as often as I have mourned since, I have been 
silenced by that voice, 'God is just.' " 

Dr. Crawford was moved to tears, and said : " My 
friend, many have been your sorrows ; but you will 
soon forget them all in the rest of the kingdom of 
God." 

^'Oh, yes," said the old man, ^'I shall understand 
it all there!" 



PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING. Ill 



CHAPTER VII. 

Embarkation for the Peninsula — Fortress Monroe — Early Dis- 
coveries — Description of the Country and its Wealth — Fight 
between the Merrimac and Monitor — Excitement and Terror 
at the Fortress. 

We bade farewell to tlie scenes rendered familiar 
and dear by many months of acquaintance and 
friendships for life ; and on the morning of the 17th 
of March struck our tents, gave away the furniture 
of our winter homes, and prepared for the march to 
Alexandria. 

The day was beautiful, with just enough of coolness 
to give vigor, and enough of spring to cause all the 
birds to sing with the wildest glee, and the trees to 
stand with that silent, expectant look they wear on 
such days, as if the warmth of the sunshine was 
bearing joy to every bud. Wlien, from our camp, 
we came to the height over Little Hunting Creek, 
the spectacle that burst upon our view was brilliant. 
The entire plain and hill-side were covered with 
armed men ; great columns of soldiers, whose guns 
flashed in the light, moved under the eye. Here, on 
the right, in the meadows of the plain, were thou- 
sands of horsemen, their polished armor reflecting 
the sunbeams like hundreds of mirrors. Li the 
fields, on the left, were many batteries. Here, still 
farther to the left, stretching from the hills to the 



112 THE EMBARKATION. 

streets of Alexandria, was a long dense column of 
men, flowing like a dark river, from whose surface 
arise bubbles, sparkling in the sunshine. In the 
Potomac lay a thousand craft, of every form and 
sail. The bands of the various regiments added to 
the effect by playing the same tune ; and often 
there was a grand burst of harmony rolling over 
the fields, and quickening every pulse as we lis- 
tened. 

It was a gay and brilliant pageant. But was there 
no fear that all this would pass away like the dream 
of the night, and that in a very few months one- 
half of that army, now so vigorous and hopeful, 
would be sought for in hospitals or in the grave ? 

We embarked on the same afternoon, weighed 
anchor about dark, and steamed down the Potomac. 
We stopped for the night at Aquia Creek, and the 
following morning again weighed anchor, and in 
the afternoon entered Chesapeake Bay ; and only in 
the dim distance could we discern the faint outline of 
the shore of Virginia. There was, during all this 
afternoon, looming up in the West and South, a 
very heavy thunder-storm. This broke upon us be- 
fore we reached Portress Monroe ; the sea became 
very rough, and we had to land when the waves 
were breaking in great billows over the beach. 
The vessels dashed against each other, cables were 
broken, and steamers full of men drifted helplessly 
from the docks. 

In the most unpit^ung storm we landed, and 
gathered in shivering bands on the shore. There 
were no shelters, our tents could not be reached, 
and if they could, there was no spot to pitch them. 



LANDING AT HAMPTON. 113 

Yeiy fortunately, but few vessels could reacli the 
shore, and hence not many regiments were landed. 
After cowering in the tempest for two hours, at 
length orders came from General Wool to march 
the brigade across the bridge towards Hampton, and 
find encampment. In the darkness, and the storm 
beating in their faces, with no light but the flashes 
of the lightning, the men marched more than a mile 
and a half to an open moor, and there, without tents 
and without fire, nearly knee-deep in water, pre- 
pared to spend the night. Dreadful would have 
been the saff*erings of that night; but there were 
those who heard of our distress, and pitied us. 

The 16th Heg-iment of Massachusetts Volunteers 
were encamped about half a mile from the place 
where we were halted. Some of this noble body of 
men were on guard when our bewildered and drip- 
ping men passed by. Wlien they were relieved and 
returned to their camp, they roused half their regi- 
ment ; and in a few moments came to us with large 
buckets of hot coffee and crackers. 

This kindness was of incalculable benefit to us. 
It was the sympathy of true men and soldiers tow- 
ards their companions in arms, and cheered us 
more than the warmth of their offering. But their 
efforts for us did not cease with this ; for they 
aroused the camp of the 11th Pennsylvania Cavalry, 
who opened for us their stables, and into these we 
crept, and were sheltered from the storm. Without 
the kindly intervention of these two regiments, 
great would have been the sufferings of that wretched 
night ; many would have risen in the morning from 
their miry beds, to be borne to hospitals, or left in 
10* 



114 THE YANKEE SOLDIER. 

the rear as incurably diseased. This Samaritan 
charity touched us more deeply, because it was a 
night when nothing but the call of duty could have 
forced a soldier from his tent ; yet these men came 
from warm beds, braved the storm, plunged into 
the morasses and swamps, and found us ; nor did 
they rest until, at two o'clock in the morning, they 
saw the last of our poor fellows sheltered from the 
tempest. 

I heard a member of the United States Senate, 
from the West, in his place on the floor of Congress, 
say: " Sir, the Western men hate the Secessionists, 
laugh at the negro, and despise the Yankee." I 
know of some Western men who have a very dif- 
ferent feeling towards the Yankee soldiers. We can 
never forget their bravery in our hundred battles, 
and their catholic sympathy in our hour of need. I 
know of no troops in the army who have so just an 
appreciation of the great interests at stake in this 
struggle ; and who are able, with so much intelli- 
gence, to defend our position at the bar of con- 
science and the world. 

After this storm had passed away, we were able 
to look abroad and weave together, as in a picture 
of tapestry, the threads of the landscape. 

We were now in that region of Virginia of the 
deepest historic interest. In the spring of the year 
1607, three little ships, sent from England, com- 
manded by Lord ITewport, sought a landing on our 
coast. On board of these vessels were one hundred 
and five men for the settlement of Virginia. At the 
head of these was the celebrated Captain Smitn, a 
man of rare genius and military ability. N^ewport 



HAMPTON ROADS. 115 

had intended to land on Koanoke Island, but a 
severe storm drove him further north, and he was 
compelled to enter Chesapeake Bay ; and a point 
which they reached, where they found deep water, 
put the tempest-tossed emigrants in ''good com- 
fort;" hence the name given to the ground on 
which the fort stands, "Point Comfort." Here a 
country opened which appeared "to claim preroga- 
tive over the most pleasant places in the world." At 
Hampton they smoked the pipe of peace with the In- 
dian king ; and after some days spent in surveys and 
reconnoissances, on the 13th of May they entered a 
beautiful river, and, in honor of the English mon- 
arch, called it James River, and laid the foundation 
of the first settlement in Virginia at Jamestown. 
Thus was discovered one of the finest harbors on 
the E'orth American coast, which, in connection 
with its great tide-water advantages, should have 
made Virginia the first of our States in commerce 
and wealth. 

The depth of the anchorage at Hampton Roads is 
59J feet ; from this to Sewell's Point, a distance of 
six miles, the depth is 25J feet ; from Sewell's Point 
to Norfolk, 12 miles, the depth is 23J feet ; and from' 
Hampton to the mouth of the James River, eight 
miles, the depth is from 22^ to 27J feet. From 
Chesapeake Bay to Yorktown, a distance of 30 miles, 
the depth is 33J feet. These are the low tide meas- 
urements. 

The depth at the entrance of the bay, between 
Capes Henry and Charles, is 30 feet, thus giving a 
far more magnificent harbor than that of New York; 
and all the navies of the world might, with safety, 



116 ADVANTAGES OF HAMPTON. 

lie in its capacious bosom. This is, unquestionably, 
one of the most interesting regions on our conti- 
nent, reminding one of the rich delta of the Mle. 
Five rivers converge their streams, and pour their 
v^aters within fifty miles of each other into Chesa- 
peake Bay, — the Potomac, James, Rappahannock, 
York, and Elizabeth Rivers. The tide rolls up these 
rivers one hundred and one hundred and fifty miles, 
and again up forty or fifty miles in the streams tribu- 
tary to these, such as the Pamunkey, Chickahominy, 
Blackwater, etc. The largest steamers and men-of- 
war have ascended these rivers for more than one 
hundred miles; and thus can be borne out to the 
ocean, at all seasons, the productions of the State. 
These rivers give to Virginia a sea or tidal coast 
of more than one thousand miles, nearly twice as 
great as that of ISTew York ; and unbounded must 
must be the surprise of any one familiar with the 
causes securing, and often compelling, the growth 
of commercial cities and States, to see here all these 
advantages thrown away. 

Here, where many '^golden horns" pour out the 
rivers of plenty, we only find the small village of 
Hampton as the growth of two centuries and a half 
of Virginia commerce. Certainly, if her brain and 
right hand had not been numbed by a fatal paralysis, 
a city should have arisen here equal to or greater 
than 'New York. And added to all these advan- 
tages, the whole trade of the West was at the disposal 
of Virginia. The difiiculties in the way of her se- 
curing the passage of the productions of the Valley 
of the Mississippi to the sea-coast through her 
canals, and over her railroads, were not to be com- 



THE TIDE -WATER COUNTIES. 117 

pared with, those to be surmounted by Pennsylvania 
and jSTew York. She stretched her arms far west, 
and the mountains to be scaled were broken, and 
more than one great natural passage-way existed to 
the Mississippi and Ohio. 

The comparative gentleness of her climate, the 
roads unobstructed by snow, her rivers never chained 
by ice, her vast fields of coal, secured to Virginia 
the vantage-ground in her race for empire and 
wealth. But all these were sacrificed and forfeited, 
and to-day is her retribution. She, the mother of 
States, 

" Sits voiceless and crownless 
In her silent woe." 

The tide-water counties, thirty-seven in number, 
are level and flat, not rising more than sixty-five 
feet above the sea. Still, there are in them counties 
of undulating, waving land. The air is still, and, as 
in many parts of the world where there is a vast as- 
semblage of waters seeking the sea, the heavens 
bazy, the dews very heavy, and the rains without a 
parallel, except in tropical regions. Thunder-storms 
arise and succeed each other with- a rapidity that 
mocks care and safety : the heaviest gloom and the 
brightest sunshine cha^e each other with fabulous 
speed ; hence vegetable life has a richness not often 
seen in our country, and some plants, vines, and 
fruits attain to rare excellence. 

In consequence of *the country rising so little above 
the level of the sea, there is in the peninsular and 
tide-water counties great quantities of swamp-land. 
Many of these could be redeemed, but are now almost 
as impenetrable as the jungles of India. But long 



118 THE TIDE -WATER COUNTIES. 

tongues of the ricliest alluvial land pierce these 
heavy forests, and give a narrow strip of country, 
three, five, and ten miles wide, and on either side 
remain the dark forest and bog of primitive times. 

The people residing on these narrow strips of fer- 
tile land are separated from each other by morasses 
rarely crossed ; and hence live as much out of the 
world as the inhabitants of small sea islands, and 
have felt but little of that stimulus imparted to the 
public mind by travel, education, and railroads. 
Here, as elsewhere, we found that the old families 
preferred to drag along in deep poverty, and to dwell 
in wretched houses, rather than part with the lands 
which still give them some claim to be ranked with 
the first families of Virginia. 

These tide-water counties afforded the very best 
lands for fruit-growings. The soil is for the greater 
part a warm, sandy loam. With this is mingled sea- 
shells, so that all the well and spring water is highly 
charged with carbonate of lime (hard). These tide- 
water lands had been advancing rapidly in value as 
their true worth became known. 

'No doubt there is a great source of wealth in the 
hitherto untouched forest-lands on the banks of the 
York, Chickahominy, Pamunky, and James Rivers. 
Many i^orthern men were engaged in getting out 
this timber for ship-building and other purposes at 
the commencement of the war, and were opening a 
useful and profitable trade. Their mills and stock 
were abandoned, and they compelled to fiee from 
conscription and imprisonment. But peace and free- 
dom will bear new enterprise and life into these un- 
broken wilds. 



FISHERIES OF VIRGINIA. 119 

This region will not be for many years, possibly 
never, so attractive as tbe higher and valley lands of 
the State. In summer the heat is oppressive, and in 
autumn bilious and intermittent fevers are preva- 
lent. The wealthy families leave their homes in 
July and August, and do not return until the last of 
September. But the winters are salubrious, and, as 
a general thing, cloudless. 

One great and as yet almost untouched source of 
wealth, are the fisheries of Chesapeake Bay and the 
tide-water rivers. In the year 1860 the value of 
these fisheries to Virginia was $86,000. This is 
thought to fall far below the truth, for the proceeds 
of the shore fisheries are supposed to be greater 
than this alone, the river frontage on single farms 
on the Potomac renting as fisheries for more than 
$3000 a year. 

The oyster fisheries of York River are full of 
promise, and will open a great and most important 
trade in the future. If proper encouragement had 
been given to planting in former years, the value of 
these fisheries would have been equal to any in the 
United States. 

The difficult and dangerous disembarkation of 
our troops at Fortress Monroe, and our subsequent 
taking the York Eiver as the base of our operations, 
was simply caused by the terror the Merrimac had 
excited. 

If the army could have been landed at E"ewpoii: 
isTews, and marched up James River to Richmond, 
there would have been before us few of those ob- 
structions which blocked up our way on York River. 
We would have found a good road, and, attended 



120 THE MEREIMAC, 

by our fleet, all the supplies of tlie army would have 
been within our reach; and we could have left York- 
town and Williamsburg in our rear, to fall into our 
hands at our leisure. It was probably General 
McClellan's original plan of operations, to make 
James River his base. But true to a prudence that 
never braved a danger, he changed his plan after the 
appearance of the Merrimac. 

The Merrimac was one of the United States ves- 
sels of war consumed in the harbor of J^orfolk. Her 
hull was fished up by the Confederates, clad with 
iron, and on the 8th of March she came out of Eliza- 
beth River, attended by two iron-clad steamers, and 
advanced steadily towards the mouth of the James 
River. Here were lying at anchor two United States 
frigates, the Cumberland and the Congress. They 
poured broadside after broadside into the Merrimac, 
but the shells struck her angular roof and bounded 
off. One shell of the Cumberland is said to have 
made some impression on the hull of the ironside. 
But without firing a gun in return, she kept steadily 
on her way, until she struck with her spear the side 
of the Cumberland. This vessel careened, filled 
with water, and began to sink ; but her noble com- 
mander refused to strike her colors, or ask quarter, 
and the crew worked their guns and fired even when 
the water was rushing over the deck where they 
stood, and two hundred men went down with her. 
The Merrimac then summoned the Congress to sur- 
render. This she refused, but answered by a broad- 
side. To this the Merrimac replied by a terrific 
discharge of shell, which tore through the doomed 
vessel, cut down many of her crew, and rendered 



THE MERRIMAC. 121 

any further action on the part of her commander 
useless and fatal: her sails were set and she ran 
ashore, and in a few moments burst into flames. 
In this part of the action Captain Buchanan was 
wounded by a rifle ball, or fragment of a shell. 

In the meantime, the Minnesota and Roanoke 
steamed out from under the guns of the fort for the 
scene of action. The Minnesota might have accom- 
plished the destruction of the Merrimac by running 
her down, but before she came within range she ran 
aground in a position most dangerous. The Merri- 
mac did not attempt the destruction of the Minne- 
sota, which might have been easily accomplished, but 
remained ofi" ]N"ewport I^ews, shelling the batteries 
and the camps : the presiding genius was evidently 
gone from his post. Satisfied with this as the work 
of one day, and possibly for the relief of her wounded 
captain, possibly for further orders, she returned for 
the night to Norfolk. 

In the meantime, all was consternation in the fort 
and army. The Merrimac would undoubtedly re- 
turn to-morrow, destroy the Minnesota, compel the 
surrender of the hundred vessels in the bay, bom- 
bard the fort, and possibly render necessary its 
evacuation. She might run under the guns of the 
fort, ascend the Potomac and bombard Washington, 
and drive President, Cabinet, and Congress from 
the seat of government. Unnumbered were the pre- 
dictions of evil, and the hearts of the stoutest failed 
them; for all the old appliances of naval warfare, 
which had been so eff'ective in the past, were power- 
less in the case of this monster. The terrific scenes 
of to-day only awakened the deeper dread of to-mor- 
11 



122 THE MONITOR. 

row. Even Gen era! Wool talked despondingly of 
tlie fate of the fortress, and the deepest gloom per- 
vaded all minds, and none knew where to turn in 
hope. 

There had been, indeed, some newspaper notices 
of the Monitor, but her destination was unknown. 
At eight o'clock in the evening of this fatal Satur- 
day this nondescript came into the waters of the bay, 
unannounced and unlooked for. 

Her appearance was so insignificant that she at- 
tracted no attention. In a few moments on shore, 
her commander, Lieutenant Worden, learned of the 
catastrophes of the day, and the consternation of the 
night. He immediately presented himself to Gene- 
ral "Wool, and, like the young David, profiered to 
meet and conquer the giant enemy. The general 
was evidently afraid this would be but another act 
in the tragedy. How could a little vessel of two 
guns contend with such a powerful steamer as the 
Merrimac, candying eight guns of the largest calibre ? 
but as the events of the day had thrown the whole 
science of naval warfare into original chaos, it might 
be this pigmy could accomplish something effective 
in the contest. But whatever the result. General 
Wool could not reject the proffered aid. The Moni- 
tor that same night moved away from before the 
fort, and took her place near IN^ewport !N'ews. 

Sabbath morning dawned a fair and beautiful day. 
The officers and men in the camps seized a cracker, 
and hurried to the shore; the walls of the fort were 
black with multitudes who with glasses were peering 
into the waters for the coming enemy. All the houses 
around the fort, and along the shore of the bay, were 



THE MEIIRIMAC AND MONITOR. 123 

crowded witli those who looked with, pale and anx- 
ious faces for the Merrimac. The shore itself was 
crowded bj a great multitude, waiting for the shock 
and end. The one hundred steamers and ships were 
with steam up and sails unfurled, and the sailors at 
the capstans to elevate the anchors, and be ready 
in a moment to glide out of danger. As yet but 
few outside of the fort knew of the arrival of the 
Monitor. 

The expectant multitude had not long to wait; 
the black smoke in the distance heralded the com- 
ing foe. At length her dark hull was seen, and in 
a few moments the cry ran along the shore, "She is 
coming! she is coming ! " The excitement was in- 
tense : children climbed upon the shoulders of their 
fathers ; mothers held up their babes to look on the 
scene ; hundreds of negroes hung upon the branches 
of trees, and to every mast and yard-arm clung a 
multitude of sailors. The interest was so absorbing 
that few spoke : more and more distinct became the 
nearing vessel, attended, as on the previous occasion, 
by the two gunboats. 

The Merrimac steamed directly for the Minnesota. 
But suddenly a report from a rebel gunboat at the 
mouth of James River called the notice of the Mer- 
rimac to an unexpected enemy. 

The boats started from her side in the direction 
of isTewport E'ews. 'Now could be seen coming out 
from the shore a small object like a speck on the 
waters, "no larger," in the words of my chief in- 
formant, "than the head of a floating barrel." All 
eyes and glasses were now turned towards this new 
wonder, and a thousand inquiries ran from one clus- 



124 THE MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 

ter of gazers to another. As tlie gunboats approached 
the Monitor, there came out from her tower a vivid 
flash, which was followed by the terrific roar of an one- 
hundred-and-twenty-pound gun. This satisfied the 
gunboat; she turned and fled from the Monitor 
more rapidly than she had advanced. 

All this time the Monitor was slowly approaching 
the Merrimac, which in her turn was advancing on 
her puny antagonist. 

This fresh act was opened by the Merrimac. Two 
or three of her great guns flashed together, then 
there was a mighty roar, causing the sea to tremble, 
the ships to roll, and the houses on the shore to 
shake. One shell was seen to strike the tower of 
the Monitor, and fall on her like dust; another 
struck her flat deck, and bounded into the heavens 
with a scream that sounded like the wail of agony. 
In a moment the Monitor returned the fire, and 
flash followed flash from the guns in both vessels, 
until the sea was covered with smoke, and in the 
bosom of the dark pall only the glare of light told 
the positions of the foes. 

After this cannonading had continued an hour, 
the Merrimac ran ofi" a short distance, apparently 
to ■ change either her tactics or her position ; and 
after a rest of a few moments, she again turned 
on the Monitor at full speed, and attempted to run 
her down. She succeeded in running her prow 
on the little raft, which glided out from under her 
powerful enemy unhurt, and almost touching her, 
poured shell from both of her guns into the hull of 
the Merrimac. ITow commenced the most exciting 
part of the spectacle ; each now began to seek tho 



VICTORY OF THE MONITOR. 125 

weakest point of the other, aiming by ev«.y move- 
ment to obtain the advantage. It was evident they 
had concluded the only vulnerable points of each 
were the port-holes, and they waited for the flash 
of each others' guns, and one flash was succeeded by 
an instantaneous flash from the other vessel. At 
length even this was given up ; and the Monitor be- 
gan to run around the Merrimac, and to pour shell 
after shell into her stern. This the Merrimac evi- 
dently dreaded, and turned and shifted her position 
as often as possible, and continued to fire, but not 
with the definiteness of aim which had marked the 
earlier part of the engagement. It now became 
manifest that the Merrimac was weary of the con- 
test, if not injured. 

When it became certain that the Monitor was not 
at the mercy of the Merrimac, but even superior to 
her, the sense of relief was beyond language to ex- 
press, — a multitude shouted for joy, and tears flowed 
down many manly faces. 

The contest was still maintained, though the Mer- 
rimac commenced retiring towards ]!^orfolk, but 
stopping like an enraged bull for another battle. 
The Monitor continued to run around her, and pour 
her shot into the stern and hull. 

After the battle had lasted for four hours, the im- 
pression was made, by the appearance and careen- 
ing of the Merrimac, that she was seriously damaged. 
She slackened her fire, and turned her head towards 
Norfolk; the Monitor followed, pouring shot after 
shot into her. 

Some two or three miles from this scene, lying on 
the waters, was a large steamer from Norfolk, cov- 
11* 



126 REBEL SPECTATORS. 

ered by a multitude of ladies and gentlemen, who, 
having heard of the triumph of yesterday, came out 
to witness the burnings, surrenders, contests, and 
victories of to-day. In her pursuit of the Merrimac, 
the Monitor sent a shell at this steamer, which 
caused her to quit the field with the utmost rapidity. 
The Monitor chased the Merrimac one mile amd 
stopped, and one of the most remarkable contests 
in history was ended. 

It is said by many that the Merrimac returned to 
l^orfolk on Saturday night, to receive orders from 
the Confederate Government in regard to what 
should be the aim of to-morrow. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 127 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Fortress Monroe — The Ruins of Hampton — The Scene attend- 
ing its Destruction — The Assembling of the Grand Army of 
the Potomac on the Plains of Hampton — The Novelty and 
Splendor of the Spectacle — March upon Yorktown. 

In order to catch the best impression of the land- 
scape, I soon found my way to the most prominent 
building, and one commanding the finest view of 
the scene. 

This building was the Chesapeake Hospital, for- 
merly a female college. This stands on the bay, 
about one mile to the left of the fort, the most com- 
manding object in all that region. The fort stands on 
the point of a long tongue of land running into the 
bay. The walls are, I suppose, fifty feet above the 
sea : many great guns are in position on these walls, 
and menacingly frown on any approaching vessel. 
The fort is surrounded by a moat, but is by no 
means impregnable. Across the bay, about four 
miles from the fort, lies a heavily wooded strip of 
low land. Between this and the fortress are the Rip 
Raps, where, on a shallow bar, the Government has 
commenced the erection of a fort ; when completed, 
this will add very greatly to the strength of the posi- 
tion. Afar off, to the left, were seen the white sand 



128 OLD HAMPTON. 

beaches and dark, wooded peninsulas ; and to the 
right, the low shores about the mouths of the Eliza- 
beth and James Rivers; as far as the eye could 
reach; not a hill or swell of land arose to relieve the 
monotony ; at the same time the scene was far from 
uninteresting, for in the bay were two or three hun- 
dred vessels lying at anchor ; a hundred little boats 
were plying from these to the shore and fort; and 
the sea, always beautiful and rich in wonders and 
treasures of her own, was there. 

But certainly the most striking and never-to-be- 
forgotten feature of that scene was " Old Hampton." 
This town lies about two miles from the fort, and 
we looked upon it in ruins, every house being con- 
sumed ; but the naked walls of five hundred houses 
remained like vast skeletons, giving us some faint 
idea of the beauty, wealth, and enjoyment of the 
past. Many of the first families of the State resided 
here, and no place in Virginia was richer in historic 
legends. 

The old English church, one of the oldest in the 
State, ought to have been spared, as a venerable 
and sacred relic : now its naked walls utter a pro- 
test against that vandalic barbarism which consigned 
it to ruin. At the time Hampton was burned, 
General Butler was in command at the fort; our 
line had extended beyond Hampton; most of the 
inhabitants had fled, but some remained. After the 
battle at Great Bethel, General Butler had with- 
drawn our men from beyond the creek. In order 
to prevent our occupying the town as winter-quar- 
ters, General Magruder sent down a hundred of his 
men, who, at a given signal, were to set fire to every 



THE BURNING OF HAMPTON. 129 

house in the place. One of the inhabitants, a patri- 
cian of wealth, with whom I became acquainted, 
unwilling to leave the only house he had in the 
world, remained in the town ; and on the afternoon 
of this day was rejoiced to find a favorite nephew 
knocking at his door. He had come down from the 
army to see his uncle and family, and would remain 
some hours. He recounted to his gratified relative 
the adventures and escapes of the last few months. 

After tea he told his uncle that he had an un- 
pleasant duty to perform, and that was to aid in 
firing the town ; and that his orders were to begin at 
his house, and five minutes would be given him and 
his family to flee from the burning place. All was 
consternation and confusion ; they knew not what 
to take, or what to leave. 

And before they had recovered from the shock, 
the shriek came from many quarters, ''Fire! fire! 
the town is on fire ! " and leaving all, they fled; and 
when they had gone beyond the suburbs they looked 
back, and saw tongues of flame ascending from 
every house, wareroom, church, and factory, and 
streams of fire running from street to street. 

A cowering, shivering, and weeping throng of 
old men, women, and children stood together in the 
fields ; they knew not where to turn. All they had 
in the world was in Hampton ; all the precious 
things, endearing home memories, the sacred me- 
mentoes of the past, all that had been collected by 
a lifetime of toil, were swept from them in a mo- 
ment. Their lamentations were heart-rending. One 
lamented most the loss of the family pictures ; they 
could have given up all, if they had those beloved 



130 DISTRESS OF THE PEOPLE. 

faces to look on and comfort tliem. Another mourned 
the destruction of the holy room where her mother 
had died, where she had kissed all her children and 
blessed them, and went up to God. Another wept 
the loss of the playthings of a beloved child ; an- 
other mourned, as the bitterest drop in this cup of 
woe, the vine which she had planted, which, as it 
wound around the summer bower, was the emblem 
of peace and love ; there her children had played 
and studied, but now they should never again scent 
the fragrance of their garden. Others wept because 
they had no home, and suddenly broken and scat- 
tered were all the hopes of their age. 

What a vision for the painter would have been 
that throng of weepers ; the darkness and the open 
fields behind them ; the light of their burning 
homes falling on their faces, and reflected in their 
tears ! 

What added to the distress of this hour was that, 
whichever way the eye turned, fire flashed on them; 
for the men sent for the execution of this infernal 
purpose, seized with a frenzy for destruction, set fire 
to every house and barn on the way as they re- 
treated, and for miles the flames flared up into the 
heavens, filling the imagination with all the images 
of terror. 

Thus were scattered the families who remained in 
Hampton, and the city wasjeft a ruined heap. 

After some days the grand army was collected in 
the green fields back of Hampton, and certainly 
there was never a more imposing and brilliant spec- 
tacle. The army consisted of not less than 120,000 
men; the troops had been nine months in the field, 



A BRILLIANT SCENE. 131 

in various places, and had become almost perfect in 
military movements and drill. 

At da^vn the bugles of a hundred camps awakened 
the soldier to another day; then followed the various 
bands, with lively notes welcoming the morning, and 
calling on us to come forth to the duties of the 
hour. We went forth from our tents, and the morn- 
ing was indescribably beautiful ; the abundant va- 
pors, and the presence of so many waters, imparted 
the richest splendor to the heavens ; the deep crim- 
son of the horizon melted into golden and emerald 
hues higher in the air, and the horses of the sun's 
chariot "pawed the twilight into flakes of fire," and 
then the sun came up to place a crown of gold on 
the head of every lofty tree of the forest. 

The beauty of the morning and evening in this 
region is more brilliant than I have seen elsewhere 
in the United States. The sky had the warm, mag- 
nificent glow of Italy and the Syrian valleys ; and as 
hue succeeded hue, and one glorious blush of splen- 
dor followed another, the spectator was lost in ad- 
miration, and knew not which most to admire, the 
many lights that had passed, or the beauty that re- 
mained. 

Wliile our encampments were here, the scene was 
most animating and novel. The presence of 100,000 
men, who, from the early morning until the night, 
are under drill in the fields around, and in every 
direction one looked bodies of men, great and small, 
^Yeve wheeling, halting, presenting arms, charging 
bayonets, receiving cavalry, with all the accuracy 
and precision of machinery, was a rare and wondrous 
spectacle. 



132 DRILLING THE TROOPS. 

Here a brigade of cavalry, witli waving plumes 
and flashing sabres, dashed across the field. In 
another direction were all the movements peculiar 
to artillery practice. On the carriage bearing each 
piece were seated six men, and two on the horses, — 
four horses being attached to a carriage bearing a 
twelve-pounder, and six and eight to the carriages 

~ bearing larger guns, and one rider to a pair of 
horses ; a carriage of equal weight, called a caisson, 
containing ammunition, following each gun. The 
horses were urged into the wildest gallop, as if 
rushing into action, wheeling around without the 
halt of a moment ; the men sprang from their seats 
and unlimbered the guns ; the horses were removed, 
and the gunners went through the pantomime show 
of loading and firing; and again the horses, with 
equal haste, were urged to the guns, attached in a 
second, and with furious speed rushed to another 
part of the field. Again the men sprang from their 
seats, the guns were detached, brought into posi- 
" on, and every man stood in his place like a statue, 
antil the command infused into each the energy of 
one who had only a moment to live. 

In another field a long line of three-fourths of a 
mile, kneeling on one knee, with presented bayonets, 
was a brigade waiting the dash of an enemy's cav- 
alry. Apparently fastened to the earth, motionless 

\ and silent, they reminded one of the armies sculp- 
tured on Egyptian monuments. 

In another field a brigade, with fixed bayonets, 
charged upon their enemies ; and over brake, and 
briar fence, and bog they ran with yells on the 
imaginary foe. The amusement of this spectacle 



DRILLING THE TROOPS. 133 

was greater from the fright of the horses of the offi- 
cers, the wild leaps of fences and ditches, and the 
panting, sweltering fat officers bringing up the 
rear. 

In another field companies of scouts and skir- 
mishers were being drilled in the movements of that 
most dangerous but useful arm of the service, — the 
skirmishers, placed at the distance of fifty feet from 
each other, the one at the lower end of the line firing 
on the advancing foe, and rapidly retreating to the 
upper end, loading as he ran, and again the next in 
succession, until every man had changed his posi- 
tion. 

In another field a brigade that had landed but an 
hour before were casting their knapsacks on the 
ground, stacking their arms, and pitching their 
tents. And in every direction the eye looked, the 
roads were crowded with freshly arrived troops 
marching to their encampments, — a thousand ban- 
ners were unfurled, waving and fluttering in the 
breeze. 

In still another field long lines of horses and 
mules, stretching for miles, were being ridden and 
led to water, — the number of ambulances and wagons 
being not less than 6,000, and the horses and mules 
for the commissary and medical department alone 
not less than 65,000. Here hundreds of these ani- 
mals had broken away from their riders and drivers, 
and were dashing with fury through the tents of 
regiments and divisions ; and entangled in tent-ropes, 
they were kicking down the frail canvas, and send- 
ing forth the occupants the personification of rage 
a\iid terror. Here was a brainless soldier mounted on 
12 



134 GREAT BETHEL. 

one horse without a saddle, and leading four others 
by their halters, when the loose animals came career- 
ing past, his determined to join hi the frolic, and 
add another feature to the scene. Away they dash, 
through fields, over ditches, through encampments 
they whirl, kick, snort, renew the furious plunge ; 
the hat of the rider is left far in the rear, his face 
the picture of anguish, his hair streaming in the 
wind, his hands firmly grasped in the mane, his 
cries of "whoa, whoa, whoa," expressing his utter 
helplessness. 

At another point, the commander of the army, 
surrounded ^vith his one hundred and fifty aids, all 
riding upon the gayest and most brilliantly capari- 
soned horses, reminding one of the brilliant train 
of the Grand Sultan, increased the novelty, and to 
some the charm of the scene. 

The hum of such a multitude, the cries and shouts 
of thousands, bring to the ear of the listener the 
sound of many waters. 

Such were the never-to-be-forgotten spectacles 
of the grand army at Hampton. During the two 
weeks we were here, IS'ature was in her gentlest 
mood. The breath of spring filled the air with fra- 
grance, and enrobed every fruit-tree in blossoms ; we 
had but one storm after the landing. It was a de- 
lightful season of rest and enjoyment, preparing for 
the exertions and sacrifices of the future. We left 
Hampton on the 4th of April, and reached Great 
Bethel about two p. m. This was the scene of a dis- 
astrous battle, fought the 10th of June, 1861. In 
this fell the lamented Winthrop, as also the equally 
gifted Lieutenant Greble, both of whom were men* 



ROSE, DALE FARM. 135 

of the Mghest promise. The position is undoubtedly 
a very strong one, a deep and impassable morass ex- 
tending above and below ; and at this point there is 
some flow and fall of the streams, and a rather bad 
ford. 

The hills above the creek, possibly forty feet higher 
than the water, were crowned with earthworks, and 
a long rifle-pit extending for miles. 

As we came near the place, the few troops left 
here fled towards Yorktown. When we crossed this 
stream we were in the enemy's land. Our troops 
had not before been over Bethel Creek. We en- 
camped the first night on the farm of Mr. Russel, at 
E-ose Dale. This we found one of the finest planta- 
tions in this region. Russel himself is a timid, soul- 
less man : having no white wife, he lives in the so- 
ciety of his negroes, and has some of the virtues and 
all the vices of a Turk. But he had a rare eye for 
beauty, for he had in his house some of the finest 
specimens of octoroon girls. Every man has some 
idiosyncrasy — this man's was that he would permit 
no one to open, or for an hour to occupy, the room 
of his mother ; everything must be kept as she had 
left it. Several of the officers, with myself, took tea 
at the house of a poor woman with a family of chil- 
dren, whose husband was in the Confederate Army. 
She assured us that none of the small farmers, me- 
chanics, and poor people, were in favor of the war, 
but they had been forced into the service. They 
could not flee the country, and if they refused to 
obey the conscription, they were thrown into prison 
and shot. She said that only the rich slaveholders 
were in favor of the war, but that her husband had 



186 DESTITUTE FAMILIES. 

ever been opposed to it, and, from the time that he 
was compelled to leave home, he had constantly 
written and sent word that peace would soon he 
made ; and this hope made her bear up with cour- 
age. But now, when she saw our troops, all her 
fears were roused, and bitterly she wept and com- 
plained of the wrongs that had been done her. The 
sufferings of these poor, defenceless, and unprotected 
families were of a character to awaken the deepest 
pity : the land was swept of fences, grain, horses, 
and cattle, and everything they had raised during 
the summer. There was none to till the fields, and 
no means of protecting what the women and old 
men might have planted; and in the peninsula, dur- 
ing the summer, hundreds of families were destitute 
and in want. There was nothing left in the country 
on which they could live. 

In a fortnight after our march to Yorktown, I re- 
turned to Fortress Monroe ; and in riding through 
the country, stopped at the house of Russel to water 
my horse. He said that all his property was gone, 
and nothing remained for the support of his family 
of servants. 

We reached Yorktown on the afternoon of Satur- 
day, the 5th of April. The last ten miles of the 
road was a continued and unbroken swamp ; the 
road was corduroy, and over this for miles ran a 
river of mud, and along this wretched way stumbled 
horse and man : many sank down totally exhausted. 

We heard heavy cannonading long before reaching 
the open plains before Yorktown. General Por- 
ter's forces, and a portion of General Heintzleman's, 
were in the advance of us. Several batteries had 



THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 137 

commenced firing on some of the redoubts of tlie 
enemy, and they briskly answered. 

If we had attacked Yorktown on that Saturday 
afternoon, there is no doubt we should have taken 
it ; for I conversed subsequently with several Con- 
federate officers who had been at the siege, and they 
all assured me that they had made their arrange- 
ments to abandon the town, and, accordingly, had 
sent away their^ families, servants, and camp furni- 
ture. They expected us to advance that Saturday 
afternoon, and carry the place by assault ; but when 
they found that we delayed, the officers and troops 
determined to make the most gallant defence. And 
soon they obtained large reinforcements, and received 
instructions to hold us before Yorktown as long as 
possible. 

On the Saturday of our arrival before the place, 
the rebel officers informed me that they had but 
7,500 men for all the fortifications, but in a few 
days 50,000 were sent to aid in the defence. I 
have uniformly stated to my friends that our great 
defeat was before Yorktown, and not before Rich- 
mond. 

The long delay here, the exposure, fatigue, the 
fevers generated in the swamps, did more to dispirit 
the army and waste its strength than ^ve battles. 
The men lost that buoyancy and hopefulness with 
which they had left Hampton. 

We were thirty days before the place casting up 
intrenchments and erecting the various works ne 
cessary for a successful bombardment. 

Around the town are open fields of rich, fertile 
land, and on these good farm-houses : these placea 
12* 



138 THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 

were abandoned and the families gone. But in these 
fields our troops did not remain more than three 
days, and, because exposed to shells from the enemy's 
batteries, were removed into the heavy forests around. 
The woodland was one vast bog, water lying in 
ponds and pools every few rods. During the thirty 
days of the siege, it rained and stormed twenty. 
Thunder-storms succeeded each other with marvel- 
lous rapidity, and day and night th-ere was a succes- 
sion of tempests, and the lightning in vividness 
and rapidity of discharge exceeded anything we 
had ever witnessed, reminding those familiar with 
India of the tempests of the rainy season in that 
country, as if the entire heavens had become one 
vast electrical battery. 

If our soldiers were on duty digging trenches, on 
the picket-line, or standing guard, they had to en- 
dure all the fury of the storm. If in camp, their 
tents were beaten down, or the water submerged 
their beds. 

If the night was fair, there were constant alarms 
along the entire line ; the men were called from their 
sleep to arms, and hurried, at double quick, to the 
outposts; here, heated and perspiring, they were 
made to lie down on the wet ground, and soon found 
themselves chilled to the heart; and on the next day 
returned to camp wearied and feverish. This was 
followed by an apathy that crept over the frame 
and brain like a paralysis, and in a few days there 
were developed all the symptoms of typhoid fever. 
And fortunate were those who had nothing to endure 
but the tortures of rheumatism. 

In a short time the sick in our hospitals were 



SEVERE TRIALS. 139 

numbered by thousands, and many died so suddenly 
that the disease had all the aspect of a plague. 

Some divisions of the army were subjected to 
much severer labors than others. It might have 
been owing to the position they occupied, and the 
confidence reposed in their bravery. But it gave 
rise to serious and just complaint. 



140 YORKTOWN. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Yorktown — Memorials of the Kevolution — Antiquities — Gene- 
ral Porter's Balloon Ascension and Discoveries — Colonel Sam- 
uel Black — His Character. 

Yorktown was of especial interest to us, because 
in that place and its immediate neighborliood are 
found many monuments of the most interesting event 
in our Revolutionary history. The divisions under 
Generals Kearney and Hooker encamped on the 
grounds where had been spread the tents of General 
"Washington and General Lafayette. We daily 
looked out upon the plain where had been witnessed 
the combats and struggles which compelled the final 
surrender of Yorktown to our forces. The old lines 
of intrenchment, and the mounds of redoubts, lie 
like a chain across the fields. 

The spot where the sword of Cornwallis was sur- 
rendered to General Washington, is marked by a 
stone on the roadside about half a mile to the south 
of the town. It lies in an open and beautiful field ; 
and as we stood there and looked over the scene, it 
required no efibrt of the imagination to bring up 
the great dead, and to become witnesses of one of 
those events which have left a lasting impression on 
the world. Prominent in that spectacle we could 



REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES. 141 

see ttie great, majestic Washington receiving, with, 
tlie air of one who felt profound compassion for an 
honorable but humbled foe, the sword of Cornwal- 
lis. 'We could look upon the proud, stern brow of 
Tarleton, and see by his side the gloomy-faced offi- 
cers of the British army. Again we looked into the 
youthful and glowing face of Lafayette, rejoicing 
not over a fallen enemy, but in the victory of liberty. 
And alongside of him we summoned up the brave 
German Baron Steuben, and the courtly Count 
Rochambeau ; and there, gazing on the great spec- 
tacle, were many of the heroes of our Bevolutionaiy 
history, — Knox, J^elson, Clinton, Hamilton. Rarely 
has the world witnessed anything more impressive 
and sublime. From this hour opened the great day 
of our national life. 

This scene occurred on the 19th of October, 1781. 
One of the great actors of this time, to whom the 
country is most indebted for the final success of our 
arms, was General Thomas N'elson. He was born 
in Yorktown, and became one of the most popular 
leaders in the Revolutionary army. He commanded 
the militia of Virginia at the capture of Cornwallis. 
The kelson House still stands in Yorktown, even at 
this time exhibiting the impressions made by the 
shells of the American batteries when the place was 
held by the English. 

ITearer to this are found many interesting antiqui- 
ties. The ruined English church, one of the oldest 
on the continent, is surrounded with time-worn and 
venerable monuments. "No walk is more suggestive 
than one amid the ruins of this ancient sanctuary. 
With one of the monuments standing in this ground 



142 INTERESTING MONUMENTS. 

I was deeply interested. It is quadrangular in form, 
and displays in its inscription the style and thought 
of the age. From angel faces on the upper end of 
the monument bursts the song, '•'All Crlory he to Grod." 
From another angel's trumpet flows the inscrip- 
tion: 

" Here lies the body of the Hon. William E'elson, 
late President of his Majesty's Council in this do- 
minion, in whom the love of man and the love of 
God so restrained and enforced each other, and so 
invigorated the mental powers in general, as not 
only to defend him from the vices and follies of his 
age and country, but also to render it a matter of 
difficult decision in what part of laudable conduct 
he most excelled; whether in the tender and en- 
dearing accomplishments of domestic life, or in the 
more arduous duties of a wider circuit ; whether as 
a neighbor, gentleman, or magistrate; whether in 
the graces of hospitality, charity, or piety. Reader, 
if you feel the spirit of that exalted order which as- 
pires to the felicity of conscious virtue, animated by 
those stimulating and divine admonitions, perform 
the task, and expect the distinction of a righteous 
man." 

"Obit. 19th Nov., Anno Domini 1772, cetatis 61." 

Another monument, of still greater antiquity, is 
found amid the ruins outside the walls. There are 
around it many broken slabs, and only this one 
inscription is legible. The flat stone is adorned 
with all the symbols of heraldry, and bears the 
words : 



A BALLOON ASCENSION. 148 

"Major "William Gooch, of this parish, dyed 
Octob. 29th, 1655. 

"Within this tomb there doth interred lie 
No shape but substance, true nobility; 
Itself, though young in years, but twenty-nine, 
Yet graced with virtues, morall and divine. 
The Church from him did good participate, 
In counsell rare fit to adorn a State.'' 

ISTo place on our continent exhibits so strongly 
the evidences of having been often the scene of siege 
and battle. The crumbling walls, redoubts, and 
bastions all remind one of some of those ancient 
cities of the old world whose history runs back into 
the early shadows of time. 

On the morning of the 28th of April we were 
startled by the cry, " The balloon has broken away; 
there is a man in it." I ran to the door of the small 
house in which Dr. Eogers and myself had our 
quarters, and saw the balloon sailing over us in 
majestic style. The sun had not yet risen, — the 
morning was clear and bright, without a cloud. 
She rose higher and higher in the heavens, until the 
beams of the sun gilded her like gold. N'ow we saw 
plainly a man in the basket, and a cry came down 
to us, ''Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" 
One of our hospital nurses shouted back, "Pull the 
rope ! pull the rope ! " The man in the basket com- 
menced pulling up the rope which dangled below. 
Seeing this, the nurse again shouted, ''Pull the 
valve-rope above you ! " By this time the balloon 
had reached the height of six hundred feet, and was 
rapidly drifting towards Chesapeake Bay; and as 



144 A BALLOON ASCENSION. 

she sailed along, Mgli above the world, was a beau- 
tiful spectacle. 

But as we looked after her with the deepest in- 
terest, we saw, greatly to our relief, that the balloon 
was descending to the earth, and approaching the 
tops of the trees, and in a few more seconds she was 
lost to our sight. Soon several officers dashed along 
in the direction the balloon had taken, and in the 
course of an hour they returned, bringing with them 
the general who had made the perilous reconnois- 
sance of that morning ; and from them we learned 
that General Fitz-John Porter had placed himself 
in the basket of the balloon very early, for the pur- 
pose of watching and judging of some of the move- 
ments of the enemy, — the morning was so clear, 
that there was more reason to expect a good view 
than one hour later. Wlien above the earth a few 
feet, the ropes, which had in some way been reached 
by the nitric acid, broke, and the balloon rose to a 
thousand feet, and reached a current of air which 
rapidly bore it out to the bay. 

But the pulling of the valve-rope caused the 
escape of the gas, and soon the balloon began to 
descend. About three miles beyond us it fell upon 
the Sibley tent of some officers who were seated at 
a table eating breakfast. Suddenly there was a 
crash, — the tent staggered, the ropes broke, the in- 
mates rushed out, and in a second the balloon and 
tent lay fluttering together ; and General Porter, as 
one who had descended from another world, stepped 
out in the presence of the officers, and without ex- 
changing words, or waiting for explanations, left 
the astonished men to their own conclusions. The 



J5 r' 




i i 



\ 
I 



COLONEL SAMUEL BLACK. 145 

general was evidently greatly mortified, and hurried 
back to his tent, knowing well that the lofty ride 
of that morning would be the joke of the army for 
many a month. 

Daring the time of our encampment before York- 
town, I had an opportunity to renew my acquaintance 
with an old schoolmate. Colonel Samuel Black, in 
command of the 62d Pennsylvania Volunteers. At 
the breaking out of the rebellion he was Governor 
of l^ebraska. He had been, for fifteen years, a 
prominent politician of his native State, and was, 
more than most men, familiar with those secret 
springs which lie far back of every public move- 
ment. He was profoundly under the conviction, from 
the first development of the slaveholders' conspiracy, 
that if permitted to carry out their plans, they would 
dig the grave of liberty for the whole continent. 

As soon as possible he resigned his ofiice in the 
West, and hastened to Pittsburg. He was there im- 
mediately ofiered the command of one of the finest 
regiments ever raised in Western Pennsylvania, which 
he accepted, and soon after he joined the Army of 
the Potomac. 

We met, for the first time in many years, before 
Yorktown, and renewed the acquaintance of our boy- 
hood. He was at this time strictly temperate, from 
principle, and possibly from necessity, never drinking 
intoxicating liquors of any kind ; purely virtuous in 
all his sentiments, and never uttering, so far as I 
have heard, a profane word; generous and familiar 
with his men, always known as the soldier's friend ; 
strict in discipline, he had an almost unbounded in- 
fluence over the regiments in his immediate circle. 
13 



146 COLONEL SAMUEL BLACK. 

In my many conversations with, liim, I found no offi- 
cer having a more just appreciation of the causes 
generating this rebellion, or who could express so 
eloquently and philosophically the views he had been 
gradually forming for years, of the consequences 
which must follow from handing over the Govern- 
ment, bound hand and foot, to those whose views 
were essentially anti-republican. 

I was likewise impressed with the conviction that 
the colonel was not far from the kingdom of heaven. 
His conduct and expressions were those of one who 
felt his responsilbility to God, and who was deter- 
mined that his entire life for the future should be 
influenced by loftier aims than in the past. He ap- 
peared to me to have come at length fully under the 
religious impressions received from the example and 
teachings of his venerated father. But, alas ! while 
our plans are long, life is short. He fell at the head 
of his regiment at Mechanicsville, on the morning of 
the 27th of June, and his loss was amongst the 
greatest of that fatal day. If he had lived, there were 
before him the highest military and civil distinctions ; 
and few names of those who, from "Western Penn- 
sylvania, have died in battle, will be read in the his- 
tory to be written with deeper regret, than that one 
so gifted perished too early, not for his fame, but for 
his country. 



PREPARATIONS COMPLETED. 14T 



CHAPTER X. 

Retreat of the Enemy — The Torpedoes left in the Streets, and 
around Wells — The Sick left behind — The Hospitals created 
— Night Scene in the Forest — Captain "W. Brown. 

At length General McClellan, having completed 
all his plans for the bombardment of Yorktown, and 
having brought into position guns and mortars suffi- 
cient to throw sixty shells a minute into the place, 
the whole army waited with intense expectation for 
the opening of the grand spectacle. But here, as in 
many other instances, the fruit of many toils turned 
to ashes as we grasped it. 

In this, as in many other cases, when all our plans 
were defeated by some unforeseen event, was fore- 
shadowed the evident intention of Heaven to prolong 
this war until we were brought to look the great 
question at the basis of the controversy in the face. 
Our disasters and disappointments have educated 
the people, and disciplined us in patience, self-denial, 
and firmness. 

Having permitted our nation to fall into this sea 
of trouble. Divine Providence does not design that 
we should come forth from this baptism without a 
permanent impression being made on the national 
character. There were, doubtless, many evils and 
tendencies to the creation of greater in the license 



148 NECESSITY OF THE WAR. 

of liberty we enjoyed. "We have but to study tbe 
lessons of history to learn that no great nation is 
reared in the lap of ease and peace. 

But those nations which have been raised up to 
give their institutions and laws to the world, were born 
in the midst of the convulsions of States, and reared 
in storms and dangers : their institutions, endeared to 
them by their fathers' and their own sacrifices, be- 
came a living people's life, and the best inheritance 
of their children. 

We needed some such calamity as the present war 
to break down the walls rising between States, and 
to sweep away, before a common national peril, all 
those sectional jealousies which divide us. We 
needed a long national trial, to make us wiser for all 
time, and to teach us the lesson that no great evil 
can be grafted on the trunk of a State without its 
poison being borne to every root and fibre ; and that 
an evil principle left embodied in the laws and con- 
stitution of a State will burn like a cancer, and con- 
sume like a leprosy. 

"Well and truly does the Hon. F. P. Stanton dis- 
course on this theme : 

"After the close of the war, when men look back 
to its bloody fields and awful sacrifices, they will be 
amazed at the insane folly which permitted them to 
consider the great American Union, with its honor- 
able history, its wonderful progress, its immense 
power^ and its proud standing amongst the nations, 
as a mere league between petty States, to be dis- 
solved at pleasure ; as a thing to be broken into 
fragments, and to be divided amongst ambitious as- 
pirants, to be made the sport of domestic faction, <ir 



EVACUATION OF YORK TOWN. 149 

of foreign rapacity and domination, changing its 
form and proportions with every change of popular 
feeling, and every restless movement of popular dis- 
content. These fatal delusions will disappear for- 
ever, and in their place will remain, in the minds of 
men, the image of a majestic government tried in 
the furnace of civil war, made solid and immovahle 
by its grand and successful efforts to resist the 
threatened overthrow of its power. 

" Then, with the awe and fear which will be in- 
spired by the tremendous energy put forth to con- 
quer the rebellion, — an energy which will appear 
only so much the greater and more imposing in pro- 
portion to the difficulties and dangers met and over- 
come, — there mil be mingled the better sentiments 
of love and veneration for a government which re- 
establishes order, secures protection to civil rights, 
and restores unimpaired the liherties which have 
been disregarded for a time in order that they 
might be permanently saved. To the people of the 
United States the Union will be what it never was 
before, and what it never could have been without 
the sad experience it is now undergoing." 

On the nights of the 3d and 4th of May, the enemy 
evacuated Yorktown and their lines on the Warwick 
River. But, in order the more effectually to deceive 
us and to conceal their movements, the firing from 
their batteries was never so intense and active as on 
the nights when their entire force was retiring. 

ISTothing could he more grand than the cannonad- 
ing of Saturday night. The atmosphere was in a 
condition eminently favorable for conveying and pro- 
longing the sound. And as one great gun followed 
13 =^ 



150 TORPEDOES. 

another, it rolled like mighty thunder over bay, and 
field, and forest, and echo mingled with echo, and 
peal answered to peal. The night, the thousand 
flashes, the trembling of the earth, the stupendous 
crash, all combined to give an awful sublimity to 
the hour. But during these nights the Confederates 
vanished. On Sunday, the 4th of May, at daybreak, 
our men in the rifle-pits found there was no foe before 
them ; and cautiously creeping up to the very lines 
of the enemy, it soon became certain that all were 
gone, and with them had fled our hope of a brilliant 
victory. Soon our entire army was summoned to 
the pursuit, and before noon was marching through 
the renowned intrenchments of Yorktown. 

The enemy had planted torpedoes in the roads, 
around wells and springs, and near the great guns, 
which, concealed beneath the ground, the capped 
nipple coming to the surface, were exploded by the 
slightest touch. Several of our men were killed in 
the streets and intrenchments by these deadly mis- 
siles. They even concealed them in green spots where 
soldiers w^ould be likely to sit down to rest. 

In one case that I heard of, a soldier, taking his 
seat with his companions on a green knoll, near to 
a well, saw lying at his feet a pocket-knife. As he 
picked this up he found around it a small cord ; with- 
out thinking of the concealed danger, he gave the 
knife a sudden jerk to break the cord. This was 
followed by an explosion which blew the soldier into 
a hundred fragments. Thus, those who entered into 
Yorktown, and remained any time, were exposed to 
peril at every step. 

The prisoners who had been taken were imme- 



SUFFERINGS UF TUE SICK. 151 

diately put to work in unearthing the concealed 
shells ; and no doubt for years to come, among the 
wonders of Yorktown will be brought to light the 
torpedoes hidden in the streets. This method of 
warfare is undoubtedly savage and brutal, and can 
only react with terrible poAver on those who take 
such infernal means to destroy their foes. 

We left our encampments on Sunday morning at 
eleven o'clock, and before noon the entire army was 
in pursuit of the enemy. We were, however, com- 
pelled to leave behind the sick in our hospitals; these 
were to be removed, at as early a day as possible, to 
Yorktown. I was ordered to remain, to assist in 
creating hospitals in Yorktown, and superintend 
the removing of the sick and wounded of 'the 63d 
Pennsylvania, one hundred and live in number. 
My principal work had been for several weeks in 
the hospitals. We had connected with our division, 
General Kearney's, from five to six hundred sick 
men. The obtaining supplies for these of sanitary 
stores and clothes, and the attending to their spirit- 
ual necessities by daily visitations and prayers in 
each of the tents, fully occupied me. And when the 
army started in pursuit of the enemy, all the sur- 
geons of our division, except Dr. Heighhold, of the 
105th Pennsylvania, were ordered to join the regi- 
ments. We were thus left behind, without ambu- 
lances or wagons of any description, to remove our 
sick into Yorktown as best we could. The suffering 
at this time was such as I fully believe is endured 
nowhere but in an army. Hundreds of men tossing 
and burning with fever were- left in camps in the 
forests, in old houses by the roadside, and in barns, 



152 SICK LEFT BEHIND. 

with sick men as tlieir attendants ; and tliat they did 
not all perish is, indeed, almost miraculous. 

The commissary stores being removed, more than 
half of those sick men knew not where to turn for 
supplies, the advance of the great army having left 
everything confused and disjointed in its rear. One 
of those night scenes I can never forget. There 
came up a violent thunder-storm on Sabbath after- 
noon : the tempest continued through that night 
until Monday night. During this time. Dr. Heigh- 
hold and myself were fully occupied with the sick 
men left in and aroimd the Baptist church on the 
Hampton road. I was not aware that any men had 
been left in the camp unable to follow the army, 
having understood from Dr. Rogers, our brigade sur- 
geon, that the disabled were to be conveyed from 
the various camps to the hospitals. I therefore sup- 
posed that all had been brought in. On Tuesday 
afternoon I was startled by the intelligence that 
thirty sick men had been left in our encampment in 
the forest without nurse or surgeon, and that some 
of these had staggered to head-quarters and made 
complaint, and begged for food and medicines. The 
camp was in the deep forest. The wagons for the 
removal of the commissary stores, tents, etc., etc., of 
the army, had cut the roads through the swamp of 
this forest into a condition beggaring description. 
Even a horse with a single rider would become im- 
bogged in roots and mud, so as to render his escape 
perilous or impossible. And if one endeavored to 
escape from these roads and turned into the woods, 
the undergrowth was so thick that it was impossible 
to proceed more than a few feet ; but if he bravely 



BAD ROADS. 153 

breasted the sweeping branches, and tore his hands 
with thorns and briars, there yawned before him one 
of those dismal sloughs of uncertain depth, where 
snakes, lizards, and small crocodiles welcomed him ; 
and from the terrors of the swamp the horseman was 
compelled to return to the horrors of the road. As 
soon as the nature of the case permitted, I went 
down to the camp, found the men as reported to me, 
some of them very ill. I immediately rode to the 
head-quarters of General McClellan, and found some 
of the surgeons still there, and some ambulances. 
At my request, three of the ambulances were sent to 
assist in bringing up the men unable to walk. 

It was dark before we reached the ed2:e of the 
forest, and even by daylight its entangled mazes were 
threaded with the utmost difficulty ; but at night 
even an Indian would have been at fault. Soon the 
ambulances were fast in a morass, the horses kick- 
ing and plunging in the wrappings of thorny vines, 
and not a road or camp-fire opened before us in the 
dismal jungle. But fortunately there was a lantern 
in one of the ambulances, — this was lighted, and 
I set forth on a voyage of discovery. I was soon 
knee deep in water, but went on sounding the 
swamp, until I became satisfied that a few steps fur- 
ther might eventuate in my sudden departure from 
the Army of the Potomac. I then crawled upon a 
rotten stump, clinging to vines, swinging from root 
to root, and from stump to stump, now on a crumb- 
ling log, now clambering amid the brushy branches 
of a fallen tree. I found my Vv^ay across the pond, 
and when I reached firmer ground I shouted aloud, 
hoping the men in the camp might hear me, know 



154 " CAPTAIN WILLIAM BROWN. 

my voice, and come foi-tli and answer. The drivers 
of the ambulance shouted back. I found my way 
around the waters, until I became satisfied who it 
was that replied to me, and then set forth anew. 

After exploring the circumference of many sloughs, 
trying the strength of a thousand vines, disturb- 
ing innumerable lizards, and wandering I knew not 
how long — for anxiety to attain the end I was in 
pursuit of, left me without any idea of time — after 
many calls and shoutings, there was heard a voice 
in reply. This was one of our sick men, who heard 
me, and was answering. I soon reached them, 
and now arose a new difficulty. The sickest men 
were not able to walk, and they must be removed 
that night, while we had the ambulances, for to- 
morrow these would be gone. We therefore took 
them up in our arms, having called all who were 
able to give the slightest assistance ; and staggering, 
sometimes falling, often halting to shout and dis- 
cover the position of the ambulances, working our 
way along paths that mock description, we had at 
length the satisfaction of hearing the response to our 
calls ; and before midnight the cases requiring im- 
mediate attention were safe in the hospitals, but 
some of them never to go forth again. 

Amongst those left behind us at Yorktown, on the 
advance of the army, were Captain William Brown 
and Lieutenant Anderson of the 63d, and Lieutenant 
Powers of the 105th Pennsylvania. These officers 
were under my care until their removal to other 
places. On the 6th of May the parents of Captain 
Brown came from Pittsburg to take their son with 
them, if possible. After consultation with many 



LIEUTENANT ANDERSON. 155 

physicians, and taking the best advice possible, his 
removal was deemed expedient, if not best for his 
recovery. He bore the trip to Fortress Monroe well, 
and rather improved on the steamer to Baltimore, and 
everything gave hope that he was recovering. The 
party reached Harrisburg on Saturday night, and re- 
solved to remain for rest over Sabbath. Here the 
most unfavorable symptoms returned, and on the 
following Wednesday night he died. 

Thus was taken away from us one of the most 
promising young men in the army. Singularly pure 
and correct in morals, kind and generous in spirit, 
conscientious in duty, the most affectionate of sons, 
his death was felt as a great loss by his company, 
and irreparable to his parents. 

Lieutenant Anderson never recovered his strength, 
but after a return to his regiment for a few days he 
was again compelled to enter a hospital, and ulti- 
mately was borne home to Western Pennsylvania 
to die. 



156 A HEAVY STORM. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Battle of Williamsburg — Attack of Hooker — Bravery of Kear- 
ney — The Dead Soldier in the Road — Williamsburg — Its 
Historic Monuments — William and Mary College — A Ne- 
gro compelled to Dig his own Grave — A Conversation -with 
a Duellist. 

The enemy liad retreated from Yorkto^vn to "Wil- 
liamsburg, a distance of fifteen miles. On tlie 
highway leading from one town to the other, for 
many miles we passed through the abandoned en- 
campments of the enemy. Their destitution of all 
the comforts of the camp was manifest, — without 
tents, they had dug holes in the ground for shelter, 
constructed villages and cities of booths, boughs of 
trees being woven together, aifording a protection 
from the sunshine and the wind, but giving little 
from the rain. The road was filled with broken 
wagons, abandoned ambulances, and all the debris 
of a retreating army. 

A very heavy rain-storm fell on us during the 
night of the 4th, — this had to be endured as best 
w^e could. On the following day, the 5th, the storm 
continued with even greater violence, until the 
wagons of the army, containing commissary stores 
and ammunition, sank so deeply in the mud, that 
for miles the whole army train remained motionless, 
and it became impossible to move forward our sup- 



BATTLE OF WILLIAMSBURG.' 157 

plies. About two o'clock in tlie afternoon of Mon- 
day, a very heavy cannonading commenced in our 
front, about two miles east of Williamsburg. Gene- 
ral Hooker, leading the advance, found the enemy 
posted at Lee's Mill. After a few minutes' engage- 
ment they retreated, falling back into the forest. 
General Hooker advanced, and found the enemy 
more strongly posted. JSTow commenced the action 
of Williamsburg. We had to pass over a narrow 
strip of land, — on either side were creeks, and their 
flats and swamps, and between these marshes was a 
narrow neck of land, along which we were compelled 
to march, in order to reach the open fields in front 
of Williamsburg. 

Fort Magruder, constructed by the enemy, com- 
manded this road, — hence the fierceness and long 
continuance of the battle, our army having to de- 
bouch from so narrow a way. The enemy brought 
up 15,000 or 20,000 men to oppose Hooker's division 
of not more than 8,000 or 9,000. This general here 
exhibited that pluck and indomitable courage which 
have since won for him the highest position in the 
American Army. For hours he resisted the over- 
whelming odds, and held his own. It remains one 
of the mysteries yet to be explained why he was not 
reinforced in the early part of the engagement, — 
why was he left to struggle alone ? As soon as pos- 
sible, however, Kearney and Heintzleman pushed 
forward to his support; and now Kearney per- 
formed one of those brilliant feats which made him 
the model soldier of his division. In order to dis- 
close to his troops the concealed position of the 
^nemy, and to exhaust their fire, he announced his 
14 



158 KETREAT OF THE REBELS. 

determination to ride in front of the enemy's lines. 
Surrounded by his aids and officers he dashed out 
into the open field, and as if on parade, leisurely 
galloped along the entire front. Five thousand guns 
were pointed at liim, the balls fell around him like 
hail, two of his aids dropped dead at his side, and 
before he reached the end he was almost alone. He 
secured by this hazardous exploit what he aimed to 
accomplish, the uncovering of the enemy's position, 
— then riding back amongst his men he shouted, 
*'You see, my boys, where to fire!" His forces 
held their own until Hancock, by a flank movement, 
compelled the retreat of the enemy within their 
works. 

All the soldiers and officers of this portion of the 
army not only spoke of Hooker and Kearney as dis- 
playing, on that day, the most brilliant soldierly 
qualities, but likewise commended in the highest 
terms the coolness, discrimination, and courage of 
General Heintzleman. 

During the night of the 5th the enemy left 
their works, and commenced their retreat towards 
Richmond, carrying with them most of their guns, 
and abandoning but few by the way. But that 
night in the history of the Army of the Potomac is 
never forgotten by the soldier. After many hours 
of ceaseless marching and battle, they found them- 
selves, having been run at double-quick many miles, 
exposed to a most unpitying storm, standing in 
many places knee deep in the water, without food 
and without fire, and all night under arms. They 
remember this as the hour of the greatest suffering 
in the Peninsular campaign. 



AFFECTING INCIDENT. 159 

On the following morning our army marched 
througli Williamsburg. I have often heard our sol- 
diers speak of the ghastliness of the spectacle, as 
they saw along the road, and over the field of battle, 
hundreds of dead strewn in every direction, tram- 
pled on, mangled, half-buried in mud; great num- 
bers of wounded still lying on the field, beckoning 
with the hand, and pleading with piteous moans for 
help ; hundreds of dead and dying horses lay scattered 
through the field ; while broken carriages and aban- 
doned guns added another feature to the scene. 

And here was one of those never-to-be-forgotten 
things which a soldier bears in his heart as the me- 
mentoes of battle, — lying in the road, with up- 
turned face, as if gazing into the heavens, was a 
dead soldier, the lower half of his body buried in 
mud. The storm of the night had washed his face ; 
it was strikingly beautiful, like that of a lovely 
woman ; a smile as of the sweetest peace lingered 
on the face of death. That calm, angel-like expres- 
sion in such a scene struck ever^^ passing soldier 
with wonder. Hundreds stopped and looked, — 
many said that he died dreaming of his mother, that 
his last moments were cheered by the presence of 
angels. I have heard many soldiers speak of this as 
one of the most affecting incidents of battle. 

I have before said that I was not with the army 
at the time of our advance on Williamsburg, but re- 
mained in charge of the sick, and to see to their re- 
moval from the hospitals in the field to Yorktown. 
When this work was completed, on the 12th of May, 
I started in pursuit of the army, and on the evening 
of that day reached Williamsburg. This I found to 



IGO WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE. 

be one of the most interesting towns in Virginia. 
Captain Jolm Sniitli laid the foundation of James- 
town in the year 1607 ; and this was, for upwards of 
eighty years, the centre of influence and authority 
in the colony. But in the year 1697 the principal 
officers of the government removed to "Williamsburg, 
which is four miles from Jamestown. Of Jamestown 
nothino: now remains but the tower of an ancient 
church, and some broken walls. Williamsburg was 
chosen as the capital of the colony on account of the 
greater healthfulness of the atmosphere. It contains 
some of the most interesting historic monuments in 
the State ; amongst others the college of William 
and Mary. This institution was founded by King 
William and his Queen Mary, and endowed by them 
with a thousand acres of land, with duties on fur and 
skins, and one penny per pound on all tobacco ex- 
ported from Maryland and Virginia. What adds to 
the interest of this institution is, that many of the 
most distinguished of Virginia's sons, such as Wash- 
ington, Patrick Henry, Jefl:erson, and Madison, were 
educated within its walls. The building itself, and 
many ancient monuments about it, and houses of 
the olden style, give to the place a peculiarly Eng- 
lish aspect. On a beautiful square fronting the col- 
lege stands the statue of Lord Botetourts, one of the 
colonial governors ; and though considerably muti- 
lated, it still presents a fine specimen of sculpture. 
He appears in the flomng robe of his day, with a 
short sword by his side. The inscription on the 
pedestal of the monument reads : 

'' The Right Honorable !N'orborne Berkley, Baron 
de Botetourts, His Majesty's late Lieutenant and 



THE OLD CAPITOL. 16l 

Groveriior-geiieral of the Colony and Dominion of 
Virginia. Deeply impressed with the warmest sense 
of gratitude for his excellencies, prudent and wise 
administration, and that the remembrance of those 
many public and social virtues which so eminently 
adorned his illustrious character might be transmit- 
ted to posterity, the General Assembly of Virginia, 
on the 20th day of July, Anno Domini 1771, re- 
solved, with one united voice, to erect this statue to 
his Lordship's memory. Let wisdom and justice 
preside in any country, and the people must and will 
be happy." 

Of the old capitol in which Patrick Henry began 
his brilliant career as the great orator of Virginia, 
nothing now remains but a few scattered bricks. It 
was in this same building that Washington, after 
closing his career in the French and Lidian War, 
was complimented by the Speaker of the House of 
Burgesses for his valor, and for the honor he had 
conferred upon his native State. Stammering and 
confused, Washington stood in the presence of the 
venerable aristocracy, and was greatly relieved by 
the adroit exclamation of the Speaker: ''Sit down, 
Mr. Washington ; your modesty is equal to your 
valor, and that surpasses the power of any language 
that I possess." 

The first newspaper published in Virginia was 
issued at Williamsburg, in the year 1736. It was a 
sheet twelve inches long and six inches wide. This 
was continued until the commencement of the Revo- 
lution. 

In the year 1671, Sir AYilliam Berkley, the Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, thanked God that there were no 
14* 



162 THE OLD ENGLISH CHURCH 

free schools and piinting presses in Virginia, and 
hoped that these should not be known for a hundred 
years to come ; and, accordingly, put down the first 
printing press established in that State, which was 
in the year 1682. 

Of the old State House nothing now remains. It 
was accidentally burnt at the close of the Eevolution. 
Amongst the most interesting monuments of the 
past, I found the old English church, where lie en- 
tombed many of the early governors, j udges, and mili- 
tary captains who lived and died prior to the Eevolu- 
tion. This church had been occupied as an hospital ; 
the seats torn up, and beds, cots, and stretchers ex- 
tended over the whole building ; and across the floor 
in every direction had run streams of blood. Into this 
had been gathered, after the battle of Williamsburg, 
great numbers of the wounded and dying of the 
rebel army: outside of the church, on the grounds 
amidst the monuments and tents, the wounded had 
all been placed, and eveiy spot was baptized with 
blood, and even on the white slabs were the traces 
of human suiFering. Those tliat survived the first 
few days were removed by our surgeons and officers 
to the college and other buildings of the city. 

In this graveyard and the church are some of the 
most ancient monuments seen in the State. One of 
them, a slab in the wall of the church, struck me as 
being peculiarly rich, and therefore I transcribed it. 
"linear this monument lies the body of the Honor- 
able David Parke, of ye County of Essex, Esq., who 
was of the magistrates of the county, eleven years, 
and sometime Secretary of the dominion of Virginia. 
He dyed ye 6th of March, Anno Domini 1679. His 



THE CONFEDEKATE WOUNDED. 163 

other felecityes weare crowned "by liis liappy mar- 
ridge witli Rebecca, the daughter of George Evelyn, 
of the CO. of Surry, Esq. She dyed ye 2nd day of 
Jan., Anno 1672, at Long Diton, co. Surry, and left 
behind her a most hopeful progeny." 

There were great numbers of Confederate officers 
and soldiers lying in the college and in the churches 
of the city. Our own wounded men, except those 
whose condition forbade the hope of recovery, were 
generally removed, having been taken to Yorktown 
and Fortress Monroe. But from motives of human- 
ity many of the Confederate wounded were permit- 
ted to remain by our government, their negroes at- 
tending them, and very often being nursed by their 
mothers and sisters. The majority of the wounded 
were from South Carolina and Alabama. I received 
here the impression, which subsequent events con- 
firmed, that the troops from Alabama were amongst 
the bravest and most humane in the Confederate 
Army. 

I found one Herculean sjDecimen of the South- 
Avest, a non-commissioned officer, in the college hos- 
pital, attending a wounded and dying brother. This 
brother, shot through the lungs, he had borne in his 
arms from the field of battle, and rather than leave 
him had become a prisoner. As soon as he found 
that I was a clergyman, he begged me with teai^ to 
go to the side of the wounded man, prepare him to 
die, and pray with him. I did so, and received very 
satisfactory replies from the dying brother, and found 
that it was no new thing for him to think of God and 
the destiny of his soul. At his own request I prayed 
mth him, and he urged me to return to him during 



164 HUMANITY OF UNION TROOPS. 

that day. The gratitude of his attending brother 
to our surgeons and officers was unbounded. He 
said he knew not how he could ever lift his gun 
against us again. 

In other wards of the college, I saw many officers 
and soldiers of the Confederate Army, attended 
mostly by our surgeons and nurses ; and they uni- 
formly expressed their astonishment at the generos- 
ity and humanity with which the}^ were treated. I 
could not but contrast, subsequently, the cruel treat- 
ment and close confinement of our surgeons when 
taken prisoners,with the full license of activity and en- 
joyment given to the Rebel surgeons when prisoners 
at Williamsburg. They were permitted to go where 
they pleased within our lines: to wander without 
restraint in the streets : they boarded wherever they 
wished, kept their servants and horses, and nothing 
was withheld from them that was thought to be essen- 
tial for the comfort and recovery of their wounded. 

I heard of not a single case of inhumanity ; they 
had full liberty of speech ; and the secession ladies 
of Williamsburg treated our soldiers and officers 
with indecent rudeness, and yet there was no utter- 
ance on our part of violence or revenge. I heard of 
but one act of brutal violence, inflicted on a widow 
and her daughter by a colored servant of one of the 
'New York regiments. When caught, he was com- 
pelled to dig his own grave, and was shot while 
kneeling in it. 

The scenes described to me by eye-witnesses of 
the departure of many families from Williamsburg, 
when they became aware of the retreat of their 
army from Yorktown, w^ere deeply affecting, and 



FLIGHT FROM WILLIAMSBURG. 165 

worthy of the pencil of the painter. Families with- 
out horses or carriages, impelled by the fear of one 
or two members of the household, arose and fled to 
the streets, and were seen in scattered groups all 
along the highways. The young helping the aged, 
mothers and fathers bearing little children in their 
arms, the elder children carrying little bundles of 
such things as they could bear, and the slaves un- 
willingly assisting in the flight. AYliere carriages or 
wagons could be obtained, they were busily filled 
with the things that were thought to be most useful, 
and in the wildest haste they hurried out of the 
place to a spot of imagined safety. 

Old persons were seen in the way, who, having 
been conducted by their slaves a short distance, were 
abandoned ; and mothers and children fled until dark- 
ness and weariness arrested them. Many of them 
expected that our soldiers would perpetrate the 
greatest outrages, and commit murder in every 
house they entered. One lady, the wife of a Rebel 
officer at Williamsburg, who had spent years in the 
ISTorth, exerted all her influence to induce the citizens 
of Williamsburg to remain in their homes, assuring 
them "that she much more feared their soldiers than 
the Yankees ; " telling them that she was not afraid 
to ride alone through the entire Federal Army. 
These assurances influenced many of the more re- 
spectable families to remain, but probably more than 
one-half of the inhabitants fled. 

The city of Williamsburg itself, with its old aristo- 
cratic dwellings and antique structure, its public 
buildings, its English look, with its houses embow- 
ered with vines and roses, is one of the most charm- 



160 DEATH OP COLONEL WILSON. 

ing places in tlie Old Dominion. The country around 
it is in a high state of cultivation, and very beautiful, 
strikingly in contrast with the dismal regions through 
which we passed coming from Yorktown. I delayed 
longer at "Williamsburg on account of the danger 
attending travel in the van of our army. Guerilla 
bands swarmed along the roads, ready to shoot down, 
without a moment's warning, any unprotected offi- 
cers or soldiers. I left on Wednesday morning, the 
14th of May, and travelled along the road leading 
to !N^ew Kent and Richmond. I went in connection 
with a large train of ambulances of Sedgwick's divi- 
sion of the army, which were ordered to follow our 
forces and pick up the wounded and sick that might 
be found by the way. This day we travelled over a 
country much superior to any part of the Peninsula 
I had yet seen, except a tract of land lying around 
Hampton and Williamsburg. Most of the families 
had fled from their homes, and their houses were 
occupied with our sick men, who had dropped out 
of the ranks by the way. At these houses we inva- 
riably halted, and removed our disabled soldiers to 
the ambulances. In one of these houses was lying 
Colonel Wilson, of Beaver, Pennsylvania, very ill 
with typhoid fever. The family of this house, how- 
ever, had remained and were very kind, rendering 
it unnecessary and certainly inexpedient to remove 
him. Two weeks subsequent to this he died, an 
officer of much merit and true patriotism. 

I had as my companion in travel Doctor B., of 
N^ew York, a very young man, who, from one of the 
most aristocratic families, was now enduring the 
severest trials and dangers of the army. He had 



THE DUELLIST. 167 

been partially educated in Europe, and had spent 
three or four years in a German university. Our 
conversations of the day brought out the fact, that 
though so young there had been bitter passages in 
his life. 

''Do you think, doctor," said he, ''that it is ever 
right to kill a man, except in self-defence ? " 

"Yes," I replied, "if he is the enemy of your 
country, and as such appearing on the field of battle, 
he forfeits his life." 

"But," said he, "is it right to kill a man that 
slanders you, insults you, and takes every means to 
lead to a quarrel, that he may shoot you? " 

"ISTo," I replied, "the law of the Great Master is, 
' Resist not evil, but whosover shall smite thee on 
thy right cheek, turn to him the other also,' 'Love 
your enemies,' 'Bless them that curse you,' 'Do good 
to them that hate you.'" 

"Well," said he, "that law may do very well for 
men like you, but if not in fact, in thought and feel- 
ing, it is constantly violated by the world. I feel more 
interested in this, because I was so unfortunate as to 
have myself a duel in Germany. The man was a 
miserable brute, and far exceeded me in strength, 
and took every measure in his power to kill me or 
drive me from the University as a coward and a 
spotted man. I fought with and killed him, and my 
conscience has never troubled me for the act, and I 
would certainly do it again. I repeat every Sabbath 
morning, as I go to church with my mother, the 
prayer of the Episcopal service, ' Lord ! have mercy 
upon us, miserable sinners ; ' and amongst all my 
Bins that rise up at such an hour, that does not ap- 



168 DUELLING UNJUSTIFIABLE. 

pear. 1 regret that I had to kill the scoundrel, but 
it was his fault, and not mine. He had made up 
his mind to take my life, and God helped me to 
take his ; he went to his own place, and I am in 
mine ; and I hope I will be no less faithful to my 
country, no less honorable and virtuous, because I 
was so unfortunate as to kill a bad man in a duel." 

I replied to this : ''The man whom you shot, doc- 
tor, was undoubtedly one of those gross, cruel 
monsters whom we often meet, but whom, vile as 
they are, God permits to live ; and I do not think 
that any insult can justify you in taking the life of 
a fellow-creature. You know that our passions 
oftentimes blind our reason, and silence our con- 
sciences ; and because you feel no remorse, you 
ought not, therefore, to rest assured that God does 
not hold you guilty of that man's blood. E'o doubt, 
at some point in the controversy you greatly sinned, 
and will find, in review of the whole case, and more 
especially as you summon up the principles that 
then governed your life, that you have reason to use 
the penitent petition of David : ' Lord ! deliver 
me from blood-guiltiness.'" 

"Well," said the doctor, heaving a deep sigh, "I 
have not felt it yet, but if it is necessary that I should, 
I hope I shall before I die." 

Here the conversation on this point ended, and 
we soon found it necessary to shelter ourselves in a 
house by the roadside from a violent thunder-storm ; 
and here we found an old lady and her son, the only 
occupants, with the old story of negroes gone, horses 
stolen, fences burnt, and cattle driven away. 

We reached 'New Kent Court House about dark. 



NEW CUMBERLAND. 169 

The storm continued for many days, until the roads 
became impassable ; and at every movement we made 
we had to halt for hours, until the pioneers covered 
the entire road with the trunks of trees. We en- 
camped, after leaving l!^ewKent, for some days on the 
Pamunky, at ITew Cumberland, about ten miles from 
the White House. From !N'ew Cumberland the whole 
army marched to Baltimore Cross-roads. Here we 
halted and encamped, waiting for the falling of the 
streams, the bringing up of supplies, and the repair- 
ing of the York River railroad. 



16 



ITO SECOND VISIT TO YORKTOWN. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Second Visit to Yorktown — Scene in the Prison — Hunt for the 
Army on Return — Crossing the Chickahominy — Sick at Bal- 
timore Cross-roads — Interview with General Kearney — Let- 
ter from the General. 

"While we were in camp at !N'ew Cumberland, on 
tlie Pamunky, Colonel Hays resolved to send me 
back to Yorktown to report the state of the sick 
men whom we had left behind, and to bring up such 
as were fit for duty. I went down in a Government 
steamer, and found, when I reached Yorktown, that 
the mortality had been far less, from the serious 
character of their sickness, than I had been led to 
apprehend. 

The sick in the Army of the Potomac, at this 
time, was certainly not less than 15,000 men ; the 
wounded in battle were not fewer than 1,500. Of 
the sick and disabled, between 5,000 and 6,000 had 
been brought into Yorktown ; the others were taken 
to Fortress Monroe and ]!:Tewport ITews. Even be- 
fore leaving Yorktown some of our regiments had 
suffered incredibly from sickness ; and in the ad- 
vance on Williamsburg some had left half, and often 
two-thirds, of their members behind in the hospitals. 
The surgeon of the 92d l^ewYork Eegiment, Dr. 
Mansfield, to whom many thousands of the sick of 
the army are under the deepest sense of gratitude, 



SANITARY MEASURES. ITl 

told me that his regiment left the city of Albany, on 
the 1st of March, 1862, 850 strong, and now it could 
bring into the field only 196 men. I found that 
wherever there had been causes in the regiments to 
dishearten the men, from the loss of officers, or the 
ribsence of discipline, they were much more liable 
to sickness than in those regiments where the spirit 
of the officers infused life and unity into the whole. 
There had been wrought, during my absence from 
Yorktown, a very great improvement; the streets 
had been cleaned, the rubbish burned, the pools 
drained, the houses whitewashed, and a great num- 
ber of contrabands were constantly at work to clear 
away everything calculated to generate disease. The 
presence of such a wise and active officer as General 
Van Yleit was manifest in every department. The 
sick had been kindly and assiduous^ tended by such 
surgeons as Drs.Greenleaf, Mansfield, Heighhold, and 
Munson. Miss Dix was likewise there, ministering 
with a thousand charities to the relief of those whom 
many pitied, but few could reach. I found that 
some whom I had left apparently dying had so far 
recovered as to be out of danger. 

During the time that I was there, there occurred 
one of those singular things attending the breaking 
up of society by war. Passing by the old jail of 
Yorktown, I heard the plaintive wail of many voices 
singing as in some funeral service. I saw standing 
at the windows a group of officers and soldiers look- 
ing in and listening. As I approached, the throng 
made way for me, and I drew near the iron-barred 
window and looked through. "Within I saw forty 
or fifty negroes, me'^, women, and children, some 



172 SCENE IN YORK TOWN JAIL. 

leaning against the walls, others crouching, and 
others seated on the floor. All were united in sing- 
ing one of the hymns which belong to the sacred 
literature of the negro. The leader of the company, 
a man about forty, perfectly black, gave out the 
hymn, which he sang in a plaintive minor, until all 
voices joined in a full, generous swell on the chorus. 
In all the slave assemblies for worship I discovered 
that though the leader might be a young man, he 
always assumed the tremulous tones of an old patri- 
arch, — the solemn plaintiveness of age entering into 
all the negro's conceptions of eloquence and piety. 
With a richness of melody I had never heard ex- 
celled, they sang their celebrated hymn : 

"0! I want to die, and go home to heaven 
In the morning/' 

This brought up vividly to me some aged African, 
going forth from his cabin in the morning, listening to 
the thousand melodies of field and forest, scenting the 
fragrance of nature, looking with admiring eyes on 
the myriad gems and diamonds glittering on grass 
and leaf, seeing the glow and beauty of the heavens, 
and feeling the sunshine falling into his face as 
if gently kissing him, — in such a scene lifting his 
eyes to heaven, and turning into song the medita- 
tions of the moment: 

" I long to go to heaven in the morning.'' 

Heaven, as an endless morning; where the flowers 
would ever breathe out their odors of sweetness; 
where the sun would never smite him ; where the 
glory and beauty would never fade ; where he should 



SCENE IN YORKTOWN JAIL. 173 

tie young again, the eye briglit, the hand strong, and 
the knee never tremble ; where he should ever join 
in the chorus : 

** Oh ! it is the morning of the Lord I 
It is the morning of the Lord!"* 

After this song was sung, they all kneeled on the 
floor, — the leader prayed in language which ap- 
peared to have been very intelligible to his fellow 
slaves, for it brought forth a multitude of cries of 
"Hosanna! Praise the Lord!" and many were the 
tears that rolled down those sable faces. Often in this 
prayer the meaning was lost in the strangest and 
most incongruous association of Scripture phrases 
and scraps of hymns. After the prayer was over I 
spoke to the leader, and asked him why they w^ere 
in prison, what crime they had been guilty of? He 
told me they had been guilty of no crime ; that they 
were charged v/ith shooting our pickets ; " but," 
said he, "massa, it not us." 

I then inquired further, and learned from the offi- 
cers near me that some of our men had been shot on 
the roads and in the forests between Yorktown and 
Williamsburg; that some white men had directed 
the attention of our officers to these negroes; and in 
the houses they occupied were found some broken 
swords, shattered guns, and bayonets. These slaves 
had been left behind by their masters on plantations 
near to Williamsburg, on York River, — and after 
the battle of Williamsburg the soldiers of our army 
had gone to their huts to purchase milk and butter, 

* Appendix. 
15* 



1T4 SCENE IN YORKTOWN JAIL. 

and had advised these almost naked negroes to g6 
forth into the hattle-field and pick up the shovels, 
blankets, and overcoats which had been thrown 
awa}^, and also to gather up the abandoned muskets, 
which might at some future day be valuable to them. 
The negroes, guided by the soldiers, went into the 
field, and collected various articles; and without 
knowing how to load or shoot a gun, having never 
shot one in their lives, some malicious persons had 
suspicion directed to them; their houses were 
searched, and guns found ; hence their transfer, until 
the circumstances could be investigated, to the jail 
at Yorktown. And here the poor, ignorant crea- 
tures, thinking that they had no defenders, and con- 
cluding that some morning they would all be led 
forth to 'be shot or hung, were making deliberate 
preparations to die. 

I assured them that, if innocent, they had no rea- 
son to fear; that our officers would be as just and 
as merciful to them as to Avhite men. ''But," said 
I, "is it possible that you could be guilty of so great 
a crime as shooting our men, when they had never 
done you any harm, and were your friends ? " 

"No, massa," they all exclaimed together, "no, 
no, massa, we no tell which end ob de gun bullet go 
out ; no shoot a thing as big as massa's big barn ; 
massa neber allow shoot gun, or carry knife, 'scept 
one broken blade. ISTo, massa, de oberseers dey kill 
your men ; they lie in bush to shoot de soldier." 

I then assured them that, if innocent, they would 
soon be acquitted, and sent back to their homes. 
They smiled and looked cheerful for a moment, but 
the gravity soon returned ; and feeling " dat white 



THE WHITE HOUSE. 175 

man beiy uncertain," and that they had better make 
use of the day given them, they recommenced their 
hymns, and poured forth more prayers for peace in 
death. What became of them I never learned ; but 
they were, doubtless, acquitted, or I should have 
heard of their condemnation. 

When I returned from Yorktown I found that the 
army had removed from Cumberland Landing to 
Baltimore Cross-roads, about eight miles from Cum- 
berland, and -G.Ye miles from the White House. I 
landed at the White House, and found more than a 
hundred vessels, transports, and steamers lying in 
the river at this place. No one who is not familiar 
with a great army can have any conception of the 
vastness of the expenditure of labor essential to 
feed it. 

The White House, standing on the elevation of 
fifty feet above the waters, is of especial interest, be- 
cause the property of the Rebel General Lee. It 
has likewise some romantic interest. Here General 
Washington met, in the year 1758, Mrs. Custis, who 
afterwards became his wife. 

I landed at the White House, on my return from 
Yorktown, under the impression that our entire 
army was in the immediate neighborhood. Here I 
learned that General McClellan had removed his 
head-quarters four miles on the Mechanicsville road 
towards Richmond; and after making diligent in- 
quiry of a thousand persons, I could learn nothing 
definite or satisfactory in regard to the position of 
General Kearney's division. I went to various dis- 
tinguished officers, and received from them the most 
contradictory "beliefs" as to where was pitched the 



176 THE SICK HUNGARIAN. 

head-quarters of General Heintzleman's army corps. 
Knowing the danger of pkuiging out into a great 
army, and that I might go to and fro with as much 
uncertainty of finding my division as has a wander- 
ing Arab in the desert in search of his tribe, I re- 
solved to go to General McClellan's head-quarters ; 
but arrived just in season to see the general and his 
staff depart for Mechanicsville. I determined to fol- 
low, and after reacliing head-quarters, learned of 
General Williams that General Kearney was upon 
the left wing of the army at Baltimore Cross-roads, 
and would cross the Chickahominy at Bottom Bridge, 
and that I was fully fifteen miles from my regiment. 
And here I may pause for a moment to bear testi- 
mony to the uniform coui'tesy of this excellent offi- 
cer, who bore into the army and never lost the ur- 
banity of a true gentleman, and the patient kindness 
of a Christian. 

I found shelter for the night in a farm-house ; as 
usual, there was a weeping woman, whose husband 
was in the Rebel army, with half a dozen small chil- 
dren, a home without comforts, and negroes all gone. 
In the same house lay sick a Hungarian captain of 
General Sykes's division, who had been brought in 
during the day very ill with a fever ; and far away 
from his native country, he recounted to me the bat- 
tles he had fought for liberty in his own land ; and 
he expressed liis great fear that he might die in a 
hospital, and not have the honor of meeting death 
on the field of battle. He had all the air of a man 
of gentle blood, and was evidently of superior cul- 
ture. Having devoted his life to the cause of liberty 
in the whole world, when driven out of Hun/yaiy 



CROSSING THE CHICKAHOMINY. 177 

he di-ew Ms sword in defence of tliose priDciplea 
wliich he had heen educated to revere. 

I satisfied myself, while here with the right wing 
of the army, that there was far less sickness amongst 
these regiments than in those of the left mng. 

There came up before dark one of those tropical 
thunder-storms which cause almost all the soldiers 
to remember the Peninsula as a land of flood and 
fire. On the following day, after long and weary 
wanderings, and being lost innumerable times in 
swamp and jungle, I reached General Keai^ney's 
division at Baltimore Cross-roads, and found the 
army in motion towards the Chickahominy. On the 
following Sunday we crossed this liver at Bottom 
Bridge. This renowned stream, in most places, has 
scarcely any perceptible flow, but spreads itself out 
in wide swamps, and flows around innumerable isl- 
ands, but here and there is contracted into a stream 
from fifty to seventy yards mde. The country 
through which we passed had many very fine farms 
and magnificent dwelling-houses ; and these, gener- 
ally abandoned, were in the course of a little while 
filled with the sick of the army. Some of the most 
aristocratic families in Virginia had their homes in 
this section of the Peninsula. The fields were cov- 
ered with excellent wheat, now in full head, the corn 
was knee high, and the fruits were ripening on some 
trees in the orchards. But in the progress of the 
army the fences were all broken down and con- 
sumed, — a single night of encampment converted 
beautiful plantations into a desert. 

The lands beyond the Chickahominy were poor, 
and more exhausted than any we had passed over. 



178 EXHAUSTED LANDS. 

The general aspect of tlie country was that of a land 
which, by poor cnltivation, had been worn out, and 
was finally abandoned to the pine, the briar, and the 
stunted oak. It is a peculiarity of that part of Vir- 
ginia over which the Army of the Potomac passed, 
that the pine comes up abundantly on all the ex- 
hausted fields, and soon overshadows them, so that 
a ray of light seldom penetrates the gloom. This is 
the effort of Nature to restore what man has de- 
stroyed. The pine and the cedar are rarely found 
in the original forests of Virginia, but spring up in 
consequence of the abstraction, by tobacco, of certain 
vital elements in the soil, and these can only be re- 
stored under the leafy shadow ; and therefore Pro^d- 
dence plants the million pines which kindly shelter 
and enrich what man has impoverished. Thus is 
frequently seen in Virginia on one side of the road 
the original forest, extending many miles without a 
single pine-tree, and on the other side a heavy forest 
of dark evergreens, in which not a single tree of any 
other description is permitted to grow. This is ac- 
counted for on the principle I have mentioned, — 
the pine covers the exhausted fields of a former 
generation. 

We reached the banks of the Chickahominy on 
Saturday morning, the 24th of May; and while our 
men were standing in an open, muddy field, waiting 
for the order to advance, there came upon us one of 
those thunder-storms which deluge the Peninsula, 
and turn the entire country into a vast swamp. 

The army was ordered, on Sunday morning, to 
advance beyond the river. We had expected that 
the enemy would await us in strongly intrenched 



A PERILOUS JOURNEY. 179 

positions on the heiglits beyond tlie bottom of the 
river ; but on our advance they removed their guns, 
and retired to Richmond. The order for striking 
our tents came to us very early on Sabbath morn- 
ing. As it was evident that we could not have any 
religious sei-vices, I went to Colonel Hays and re- 
quested permission to ride back to Baltimore Cross- 
roads, a distance of ten miles, and report the con- 
dition of the sick men whom we had left there. This 
was most cheerfully granted. On my way I had to 
pass by the head-quarters of General Kearney. He 
was standing at the door of the house he occupied. 
I saluted him. 

" Where, chaplain, where ? " 

'' To the rear, general, to see after the sick men 
we left behind." 

The sternness of his face relaxed in a moment. 
He advanced a step. ''All right, sir, all right, call 
and report to me on your return." 

I bowed, and rode on. Previously to this time I had 
had no acquaintance with the general. I could not 
tell how he knew me to be a chaplain, except from 
the peculiar clerical gravity of my horse, which never 
so lost his dignity as to put on any war-horse pranc- 
ings or curvetings, but who preferred a quiet and 
even tenor, and frequent friendly halts for greetings 
by the way. 

The perils of this journey are incredible to one 
who has not been on the Chickahominy at this sea- 
son. The nature of the country, the narrowness of the 
causeways, and the density of the forests, compelled 
the army to move over the roads, however bad. The 
bogs, sloughs, and sluggish streams had been covered 



180 AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION. 

with logs and branches of trees, bnt these had been 
torn up and thrown into all the bristling positions 
of a chevaux-de-frise by our heavy wagons and artil- 
lery. In some places, as far as the eye could reach 
there was an endless succession of horrors. Here a 
great gully lay directly across our way, and invited 
us to fathom its unknown depths. On the left a 
broken wagon, whose fore-wheels had entirely disap- 
peared, gave us warning that there were no sound- 
ings in that neighborhood ; on the right a dead 
horse standing upright amid the roots of a stump, 
the mud covering all the back part of his body, told 
us of the dangers there. In the bog before us there 
were various objects, so encased in mud that it was 
impossible to tell what they were, — they might be 
logs of wood, heads of horses, feet of mules, or bodies 
of men. 

After an incredible struggle my panting, trem- 
bling horse stood with his fore-feet on the slippery 
bank, and his hind parts gradually sinking out of 
sight. There was great danger that he would be 
added to the monuments of that scene ; I encouraged 
him to another effort, and after two or three falls on 
his knees he reached the top of the bank. Before 
us now stretched a long river of mud; the timber 
used in corduroying was afloat, and rolled beneath 
the feet of my horse ; sometimes he would fall be- 
tween these, and then there was the greatest danger. 
Dead horses and mules were lying, some half buried 
and others floating, every few rods. One poor horse 
was still alive, so covered with mud that his color could 
not be told ; he had fallen down, and unable to go 
further, had been shot by his brutal driver. The 



CARE OF THE SICK. 181 

blood was trickling down from tlie wound in Ms 
head, and staining tlie mud ; but his sufferings had 
not extinguished the gnawings of hunger, for the 
poor animal was biting little pieces of the bark of a 
tree beside him. A little further on a sutler's wag-on 
had been engulfed, the goods thrown out, and they 
were in such a condition that no one stopped to 
pick up the sweet cakes, tobacco, and cheese. All 
the debris of an army was there, broken boxes of 
crackers, abandoned tents, ambulances, and wagons. 
After passing through these heavy forests, I 
emerged into the green fields at Baltimore Cross- 
roads. At all the houses for miles around, and in 
the barns and stables, had been left our sick men. 
As yet there was no provision made for sending 
the sick of the army to the White House. I rode 
to the place where I saw tents in the field, and 
learned that the sick were to be gathered from all 
these places and sent to a particular house. On re- 
pairing to this house I found a young surgeon, having 
under his care some three or four hundred patients. 
The men were extremely despondent, the place was 
lonely and out of the way, the army having gone, and 
they felt like those abandoned on a desert island. 
The hospital was in one of the large country houses, 
surrounded by a great number of outhouses, built 
mthout any definite plan. In these houses, and in 
tents and barns, were lying the sick, in all stages of 
disease. During the day all those who had been scat- 
tered over miles were gathered in. I returned the 
same day a part of the way, taking the long bridge 
road, which carried me almost to the pickets of the 
enemy, but I escaped the dangers of the army road. 
16 



182 RETURN TO CAMP. 

The following morning I readied our encampment 
beyond the Chickahominy, and was gratified to learn 
that we were within ten miles of Hichmond. I could 
not find the head-quarters of General Kearney, and 
therefore reported to General Jamison the condition 
of the sick of his brigade left behind, and requested 
that he would take measures to send back nurses 
and hospital stores. 

Yery soon after General Jamison rode to the head- 
quarters of General Kearney, and reported to him 
my statement. In a few moments an orderly came 
into our camp, bearing a request from General Kear- 
ney '' that Chaplain Marks should report himself at 
his tent." I confess I rode to his head-quarters with 
many misgivings, for I had not reported, as com- 
manded, to the general himself. When I came up 
to his tent door, I was ushered into his presence by 
an orderly, — his face was frowning. 

"How is it, sir," said he, ''that you did not report 
to me in person?" 

"Excuse me, general," I said, "I did not think 
my report of sufficient consequence to authorize me 
to trouble you with it ; and I designed, as soon as I 
could find your head-quarters, to report to you in 
person ; but in the meantime meeting General Jami- 
son, I reported to him the condition of the sick in 
his brigade." 

"Well," said he, "you reported that sick men in 
my division were lying in the woods and in tents, a 
long distance from any house, without any medical 
attendance or nurses, and no one had looked after 
them since we left : is that so, sir ? " 

"Yes, sir." 



INTERVIEW WITH GEN. KEARNEY. 183 

^'Why, sir, did you bring back a report so calcu- 
lated to demoralize and dishearten tbe army?" 

"I reported to none but General Jamison, and 
tbat with the purpose of having sent back to them 
medicines, nurses, and hospital supplies, and, if it 
was best, to go back myself." 

"Well, sir, why did you hot remain there, and 
bring in all those sick men ? how did you dare to 
come away and leave them ? " 

'' Sir," I replied, "I saw the last man brought in 
before I left ; every man from the fields and woods 
was in the hospital." 

"Well, sir," relaxing a little, "you must obey 
orders. Say nothing about this in camp, chaplain : 
everything relating to my sick men touches my 
heart. I '11 have occasion for you again. Chaplain, 
now go ; but hereafter obey orders." 

I bowed and left the tent. From that hour Gen- 
eral Kearney was my warmest friend, and invariably 
treated me with the greatest kindness. 

On the next morning I received an order from the 
general regularly detailing me to take charge of such 
sick in the hospitals as had to be removed to the 
White House, and to take measures to obtain for 
them in all the hospitals such sanitary stores as could 
be reached. 

The expectation began to be universal, that at the 
very first hour possible an advance would be ordered, 
and therefore preparations were made to send away 
all the sick in the hospitals on the field ; and on the 
Monday previous to the battle of Fair Oaks the 
order came down from head-quarters to move all 
the sick of the camp-hospitals to the White House. 



184 SUFFERINGS OF THE SICK. 

The arrano-ement was made to send tlie sick of 
Kearney's and Hooker's divisions to Meadow Sta- 
tion, about one mile east of Savage Station. The 
surgeons were generally satisfied with seeing the 
sick placed in the ambulances, and sent with them 
no nurses and often no food. They were brought 
to the station, and placed upon the porticoes and 
under cover of the building : a great number arrived, 
and soon under every green tree were lying sick 
men. Many of these were in the delirium of fever, 
giving commands, standing guard, marching on the 
enemy, and talking to their friends at home. Others 
were apparently in the last stages of sickness. Many 
were constantly crying for water, many begging for 
medicines, and others beseeching me to write to 
their friends. To all these it was necessary, in vari- 
ous ways, to give attention. The porticoes around 
the station were from four to six feet above the 
ground; and there had to be a constant care lest the 
trembling, staggering men, or those tossing with 
fever, should fall and be seriously injured. "We had 
expected to be taken from this place in two or three 
hours, but the cars on this road were in such demand 
to transport troops, ammunition, and forage, that the 
conductors refused to halt long enough to place the 
sick men on board. Hence we remained two days at 
this station. The sufferings of the men the first 
few hours after their removal were very great ; the 
fatigue, the joltings on the rough roads, the anxiety, 
all increased their miseries, and caused many to pray 
for death. 

In the course of two days we had them all removed 
to the "White House. At this place, in one of the 



HOSPITAL ON THE PAMUNKY. 185 

great fields, was pitched a city of hospital tents. The 
location of these was most ill-advised ; for the ground 
was swampy, the water lying much of the time upon 
the surface. Many of the tents were without floors, 
and the men suffered much from dampness. This 
locality was the more inexcusable, for there was an 
excellent position for the tents around the "White 
House : here the grounds were high, well drained, 
and covered "with grass, and the whole surface pro- 
tected by shade-trees. ]S"o more genial and delight- 
ful spot could be selected near the Pamunky than 
the grounds around General Lee's house. But for 
8ome unexplained reason a boggy field was chosen 
for the hospital tents, and guards were stationed at 
every gate of the Wliite House, allowing no one to 
enter the premises. 

In one of these journeys from hospital to hospital 
I came across a garden near an abandoned farm- 
house, not far from Dispatch Station, and discovered 
under the shadow of the evergreens, in the now open 
ground, several fresh graves. These were of sol- 
diers who had died of fever ; and their companions 
had marked on a neat board, put to the head of 
each, his name, regiment, and time of death ; and 
sometimes the words which followed were : " He 
died in hope;" ''He rests in peace;" ''He sleeps 
until a better morning;" "He fell asleep far from 
home, but in the Lord." 

About this time I received the following letter 

from General Kearney, which I introduce here as an 

illustration of his watchful interest and care for the 

sick of his di\'ision, expressing as it does sentiments 

16* 



186 LETTER FROM GEN. KEARNEY. 

of humanity whicli add to tlie glory of one of the 
bravest of our commanders. 

[Copt/.'] 

"Hd.-Qrs. 3d Division, ) 

"Fair Oaks, June 15, '62. J 

"Dear Sir: — I return you my grateful acknowl- 
edgments for your noble and energetic conduct in 
behalf of our poor sufferers of this division. 

"From long experience in the field no one appre- 
ciates more sensibly the service you thus render to 
humanity and to our cause. 

"K there has been one point, more than another, 
where I have hitherto laboriously, and conscien- 
tiously, and successfully fulfilled my duties as an 
officer, it has been in my solicitude for the sick and 
disabled. I am thankful to find in you a strong 
coadjutor; and when I am a little more free to sepa- 
rate myself from the cares of being on the spot to 
command in case of attack, I will ever be found a 
constant visitor of the hospitals. 

" Most respectfully, your obdt. svt., 

"P. Kearney, Br.-Gen'l. 

'* The Rev. Dr. Marks, 

"Chaplain 63d Reg't Pa. Vols." 



BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS. 187 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Battle of Fair Oaks — Dash of General Longstreet on General 
Casey's Division — Severity of the Contest — Severe Losses of 
some Regiments — Scene on Saturday night at Savage Station 
— Conversation with the Wounded and Dying — The Battle of 
Sunday Morning. 

I WAS returning from one of my journeys to tlie 
White House, on Saturday, the 30th of May, when 
the battle of Fair Oaks commenced. We had be- 
come accustomed to daily cannonading, to skirmish- 
ing, and picket firing ; but this had a continuous 
roar, and the heavy, crashing ring of a great en- 
gagement. 

When I reached Despatch Station I learned that 
a battle was then in progress. I stopped at our 
encampment, but found that all of General Kear- 
ney's troops had been hurried up to the scene of 
conflict. 

I ran up the railroad towards the field of battle. 
It was now three p. m. ; and at Meadow Station, one 
mile east of Savage Station, and two and a quarter 
from Seven Pines, I began to meet the wounded 
men, who, with broken arms, shattered fingers, and 
flesh cuts, were wandering to the rear without any 
definite purpose. They were mostly of General 
Casey's division, and being disabled, when relieved 



188 AN UNEQUAL CONTEST. 

by Generals Kearney and Hooker they were at lib- 
erty to seek safety and surgical aid. 

They uniformly represented that their picket-lines 
were not more than one-fourth of a mile in advance 
of their camp, and extended to the long swamp 
which stretched for miles on both sides of the rail- 
road along our front, and that their pickets had been^ 
advanced as far as possible, most of the men stand- 
ing in water, or on tufts of grass and briars above 
the bog. 

That suddenly, while they were at dinner, the 
pickets commenced firing, the enemy having stolen 
up close to them, and followed the retreating men 
into the camp, and in a moment the cannon and 
musketry of the Rebels opened upon them ; every 
way they looked long lines of their foes were rush- 
ing out of the woods into the open fields, and with 
wild, Indian-like shrieks were running towards them. 
Some of the regiments stood their ground around 
the camp until half of their number had fallen, 
all the horses of the batteries were killed, and the 
captured guns turned upon them ; and even then 
they fell back but one hundred rods, and rallied in 
the bushes, and against overwhelming odds held the 
enemy in check. 

And here, for three hours, less than 5,00Q men 
held back 20,000 ; for the force of General Casey, 
at the commencement of the action, was not more 
than 6,000 men, and 1,000 were, in the first attack, 
placed Jiors de eomhat ; and thus crippled, the division 
had to sustain this unequal contest for so long a 
time. 

Manv of the Confederate officers whom T met in 



VINDICATION OF CASEY. 189 

Eiclimond, and before it, uniformly spoke in the 
highest terms of the bravery of General Casey ; and 
said that his troops fought as well as they had ever 
known fresh and undisciplined regiments, and that 
they met from them a far more vigorous resistance 
than they had anticipated. 

They said that the position of General Casey was 
one of the greatest peril. Thrown in advance of 
Hooker and Kearney three miles, if they threw 
against him a large force it was almost impossible 
to reinforce him in season to prevent defeat. That 
they had expected to cut his division to pieces, and 
before reinforcements could possibly arrive, diive back 
the shattered regiments, to bear with them conster- 
nation and panic. 

But so far from this being realized, the unyield- 
ing firmness of this division prevented their cutting 
through our left wing, capturing a part, and demor- 
alizing the whole ; for it held out against them until 
reinforcements came up. I was glad to hear them 
vindicated, and relieved from those charges which 
were so unjust and painful. 

The first night after a battle is always full of in- 
describable horrors, men in their struggles throwing 
themselves into ever}^ position, the cries of those 
alongside of them complaining of the touch of their 
shattered limbs, others shrieking for water, many 
praying for death, and some begging a kind hand to 
lift them up once more. 

During the entire night the wounded were brought 
in, until they covered the grounds around the house 
of Mr. Savage, and filled all the outhouses, barns, 
and sheds. Lying alongside of our wounded were 



190 HOSPITAL AT SAVAGE STATION. 

many Confederate soldiers and officers ; and to tlie 
lionor of our men be it said, I heard no words of anger 
or reproach, but the rebels were uniformly treated 
as kindly as the Union soldiers. 

All night the surgeons were occupied in ampu- 
tations ; and, in the circumstances, they found it 
impossible to look after those whose condition de- 
manded immediately, to revive them, food and stimu- 
lants. Wounded men suffer greatly from cold, and 
shiver as in winter, or with an ague. It was there- 
fore essential to lift them from the damp ground, and 
cover them as far as possible. 

In the course of the evening twenty or thirty sol- 
diers from different regiments, who had borne in 
upon their shoulders their wounded comrades, per- 
mitted me to organize them into a corps of nurses. 
Colonel McKelvy, than whom no man was more 
active for the relief of our men, furnished twenty 
bales of hay, a thousand blankets, and permitted me 
to draw on the Commissary Department for coffee, 
sugar, and crackers to an indefinite amount. The 
nurse-soldiers soon spread down this hay, and many 
a shivering, wounded man, when lifted from the 
damp earth, and placed upon the soft grass bed, 
with a blanket spread over him, poured out his 
gratitude in a thousand blessings. "When this was 
done we followed with hot coffee, and found our 
way to every suffering man. Everywhere we were 
compelled to place our feet in streams of blood: one 
spectacle of anguish and agony only succeeded an- 
other. The mind was overwhelmed and benumbed 
by such scenes of accumulated misery. Wliere 
there was so much to be done, and where we could 



A PAINFUIi SCENE. 191 

do SO little, the temptation was to huny away from 
such painful spectacles, and remember them only as 
the visions of a frightful dream. Great must be the 
cause which demands such a sacrifice. Here and 
there over the grounds were seen through that 
night a circle of lanterns waving around the tables 
of amputators. Every few moments there was a 
shriek of some poor fellow under the knife. And 
one after another the sufferers were brought forward 
and laid down before the surgeons on stretchers, 
each waiting his turn. And then again one with 
face as white as marble, and every line telling that 
he had passed through a sufiering, the utmost which 
human nature could endure, was borne away and 
laid down for some kind-hearted man to pour into 
his lips a few drops of brandy, to lift up his head, 
and give him the assurance of life and sympathy. 
There a brother knelt and wept over a dying brother, 
and his voice, broken with sobs, begged me to come 
and pray that his brother might be able to see Jesus 
and depart in peace. There a father held up in his 
arms a dying son, and was receiving his last message 
to mother, sister, and brother; here a group of 
sympathizing soldiers stood around a dying com- 
panion who was loudly bewailing his early death, 
and that he should never see again his native hills. 
There four or five were holding in their strong arms 
one whose brain, having been pierced with a ball and 
deprived of reason, was strong in the frantic energy 
of madness ; here a beckoning hand urged me to 
come, and at the sufferer's request sit down by his 
side, and tell him what he must do to be saved. 
Then was whispered a story of disobedience, of 



192 A NIGHT OF WOE. 

crime that now stung like a serpent and bit like an 
adder. Another begged me to come early in the 
morning, and write a line to father or wife. Others 
entreated that they should not be compelled to sub- 
mit to the knife of the operator, but that their limbs 
might be spared them, for they felt sure that under 
the surgeon's hand they should die. Others begged 
that some board might bear their names and be 
placed at the head of their graves. 

If I turned from these scenes on the open ground 
and entered into any of the houses, spots of blood 
stained the steps and the stairs. In the halls were 
lying alongside of each other many of the wounded 
and dead. The rooms were crowded with sufferers, 
broken and shattered in every conceivable way by 
the enginery of death. From the mouth of one was 
running a stream of blood ; another was upheld in 
the arms of a friend and gasping for breath, and the 
deep and unnaturally bright eye told that all the 
energies of life were summoned to the struggle. 
One lying on the floor told by his loud snore of the 
injury done to the brain, and that he, in all proba- 
bility, would never open his eyes ; and another beg- 
ged for help, that he might change his position and 
relieve the suffering of his shattered thigh. 

"Night of nights! who can tell thy tales of woe?'' 

At one place where a wounded soldier was pant- 
ing his last, I was summoned. He begged me to 
pray for him, and taking from his finger a gold ring, 
he asked me to send it to his wife, who had given it 
him on the day of their marriage, and now he wished 
it to be restored to her. Li a few moments the last 



A WOUNDED CHILD. 193 

battle was fought, and the soldier was asleep. On 
examining the ring I found underneath the wrap- 
pings of a thread the initials "J. S. to C. B." This 
had been done to preserve the letters, and was the 
careful act of human love, anxious to preserve a sa- 
cred memento. In another group of sufferers I found 
a little boy apparently not more than twelve years 
of age ; the long hair thrown back from a beautiful 
forehead, enabled me to see by the lantern light a 
very childlike face. His right leg had been ampu- 
tated above his knee, and he was lying motionless 
and apparently breathless, and as white as snow. I 
bent over him, and put my fingers on his wrist, and 
discovered to my surprise the faint trembling of a 
pulse. I immediately said to my attendant: "Why, 
the child is alive ! " 

"Yes, sir," said he, opening his eyes, "I am alive; 
will you not send me to my mother? " 

"And where is your mother," said I, " my child ? " 

"In Sumterville, South Carolina," he replied. 

"Oh! yes, my son, we will certainly send you to 
your mother." 

""Well, well," said he, "that is kind; I will go to 
sleep now." 

Sahhath, June 1st. — It was understood that the 
battle would be renewed this morning ; and with 
the first dawn of the day I saw G-enerals Keyes and 
Heintzleman leave the head-quarters of the latter at 
Savage Station. They rode, surrounded by their 
aids, across the field leading to the Williamsburg 
road. I had heard, during the night, that an hospital 
had been created about a mile from the Station 
towards the battle-field. I started to find it, and in a 
IT 



194 JOSEPH BYNON. 

short time reached the house, in and around which 
were lying a multitude of our dying and wounded. 
Several surgeons were there, amongst others Dr. 
Rogers, to whom all accorded the praise of being 
one of the most successful and humane of operators, 
and Dr. Heighhold, one of the most active and hu- 
mane surgeons in the army. Ambulances were here 
removing the disabled to Savage Station. Mingled 
with the great number of wounded were many dead, 
who having been brought in, did not survive the 
night. 

Amongst the badly wounded was Joseph Bynon, 
of Alleghany City, Pennsylvania, a young man of 
the most generous nature, universally popular in 
the regiment, and the hope and staff of a widowed 
mother. He was lying on a blanket near the house, 
wounded in the bowels. I asked him about his suf- 
ferings. He replied that he did not suffer much; 
that he was faint from loss of blood, as he supposed. 
I saw from his pulse that he had but a few moments 
to live, and said to him : 

"Joseph, are you willing and ready to die ? I am 
afraid you cannot live." 

''Well, doctor," he whispered, "I should like to 
live ; I love my mother ; this will be a great sorrow 
to her, and I should like to do something for my 
little nephew and niece. But there is another life, 
and I know I shall find my mother there. I feel 
I have been a sinner ; in many things I have done 
very wrong ; but ever since the conversion I experi- 
enced in Camp Johnson, I have tried to follow my 
Saviour, and now I die trusting. My mind wan- 
ders ; I find it difficult to think and speak ; in pray- 



JOSEPH BYNON. 19l> 

ing to God I may not say the things that are right ; 
do, doctor, lift up my hands and clasp them to- 
gether, and pray for me ; I will follow you." 

I lifted up the hands crimsoned with his own 
blood, and pressing them in mine, commended him 
to the Merciful One, who for us all had suffered the 
bitterness of death. He repeated word for word, 
prayed for his mother, and then said : " Oh ! Lamb 
of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, take 
away my sin ; into Thine hand I commend my 
spirit! " 

He then left his blessing for his mother, his thanks 
to her for the toil and affection of the past, and 
thanking me for what I had done for him, he 
stopped exhausted, but his face became as tranquil 
as that of a little child. While I was yet talking 
with him, the rattle of musketry commenced near 
us, and in another moment a shell came shrieking 
over us. Instantly there was the call of "Men, to 
arms! fall into line!" General Heintzleman or- 
dered his men to march through the orchards and 
enter the forest. The firing became more brisk, and 
was coming closer. All the stragglers, servants, am- 
bulance drivers, some of the surgeons, and all the 
nurses, commenced a wild, pell-mell retreat. There 
were still many wounded men lying around ; they 
begged not to be abandoned and left to the enemy. 

Joseph Bynon called me to him, and said : ''Doc- 
tor, don't leave me." 

"1:^0, Joseph, you shall be removed before I 
leave." 

I ran out to an omnibus then driving past, and 
commanded the driver to stop and take in all he 



196 Sumner's corps at fair oaks. 

could carry. After much persuasion lie drove up to 
the gate. Just then Mr. William Grey, of Taunton, 
Pennsylvania, drove up apparently as calm as in the 
quietest march, and placed in the three ambulances 
all the living lying at this spot. Joseph Bynon 
died before he reached Savage Station, and was 
buried under the shade of the apple-trees in the 
orchard. 

Our men were in line of battle about one hundred 
yards in advance of this house, in the edge of the 
forest. It was now about seven a. m. The firing 
was very brisk and steady all along our front lines, 
but having none of the regularity and continuous 
roar of battle, but lively skirmishing. While I was 
aiding the wounded into the ambulances, I heard 
loud shouts to our right, and turned to look for the 
cause. I saw coming out through the forest from 
the railroad a large body of our troops. This was 
General Sumner's corps, which had crossed the 
Chickahominy on the previous evening, and reached 
the right of our wing in season to prevent our right 
flank being turned, and consequent defeat; and 
now, with the true instinct of a loyal and brave com- 
mander, he was bringing his men to the scene of the 
greatest danger. 

I felt certain, when I saw this magnificent corps 
move along with the steady step of veterans, that 
the day was ours. As regiment after regiment passed 
in front of our lines, with waving banners and music, 
they were hailed and cheered with the loudest shouts. 
They turned up the Williamsburg road, and were 
immediately followed by General Heintzleman and 
his corps. For a few moments there was the ominoii s 



RENEWAL OF THE FIGHT. 197 

calm which often precedes battle. Taking advan- 
tage of this, I ran up along the Williamsburg road 
in pursuit of the army, and in a few moments reached 
our breastworks, which extended along our entire 
front from the Chickahominy to the White Oak 
Swamp. Our batteries were in position, and on the 
breastworks themselves were planted many field- 
pieces. Within the intrenchments was a long line 
of men, as far as the eye could reach, every man 
bending on his knee and resting his gun on the em- 
bankment, silent and motionless, intently looking 
for the enemy. The gunners stood around the can- 
non, equally alert and watchful. 

In front of this line of intrenchments were open 
fields, extending two miles on each side of the road. 
The open ground in front of us was probably about 
one-fourth of a mile wide, and then again was inter- 
rupted by forests. On the opposite side of this field 
the enemy was posted, under the covert of the woods. 
After I had passed out of the intrenchments, and 
gone beyond the first field batteries, I saw the troops 
of General Sumner's corps and those of General 
Heintzleman, under General Hooker, march into 
the field, deploying to the right and left, and with a 
steady quick step they commenced advancing on the 
enemy. Before they reached the centre of the field, 
their march became double-quick: continually firing 
as they ran, they dashed forward on the enemy. Oc- 
casionally I could see a gap in our lines following 
the thunder of some field-pieces, but in a moment 
this was not perceptible, and the men were marching 
on as brisk as ever. Very soon our troops reached 
the edge of the forest, and I trembled in apprehen- 
17* 



198 DEFEAT OF THE REBELS. 

sion of the sanguinary contest ; but nothing could 
resist the energy and determination of our soldiers. 
The struggle was but for a moment, and the tide of 
battle rolled into the forest, and our front line was 
lost to the view, except an occasional gleam of arms 
that came out from the openings amongst the trees. 
Then the din, and the clash, and the roar went 
up into the heavens more distinctly from the field 
beyond. By climbing into the trees we could see the 
enemy pushed back into the swamps, and gradually 
the rattle of musketry ceased : we heard only the 
cannon firing on the retreating foe. There is no 
doubt of the truth of the statement often made, that 
the enemy on this day were thoroughly defeated 
and that it was possible for us to have taken Eich- 
mond. The Eebel soldiers rushed into Richmond, 
heralding their defeat and spreading alarm, thou- 
sands of them throwing away their guns in their 
flight; and if we had pushed vigorously forward 
we could have been in Richmond before night. 
General Johnston had been severely wounded the 
previous day, and the enemy acted without concert 
or plan. 

General Heintzleman afterwards told me that 
when it became evident that the day was gained, 
and the Confederates in full retreat, he had already 
given command to advance until the works of the 
enemy were taken. But General Kearney reminded 
him that his only reserves were General Couch's and 
General Casey's divisions, which had lost large num- 
bers on the previous day, and were considerably ex- 
hausted and dispirited; that he could receive no 
reinforcements in season from the right side of the 



BRAVERY OF OUR TROOPS. 199 

Chickalioniiny, and if our army sliould receive a 
check, tlie peril of its position would be great. THs 
induced the general to order the halt of our army. 
As often in our lives, we were wise too late ; and 
thus ended one of the most hotly contested and 
severe battles of the Peninsula. Our loss was esti- 
mated at 7,000 killed and wounded; the loss of the 
enemy is known to have been greater, probably 
10,000. In no battle did our troops show more un- 
flinching determination, and in none were their en- 
durance and courage more thoroughly tried. 

I subsequently passed all over this field, and saw 
nowhere, in any battle-scene of the Peninsula, the 
signs of a more terrific conflict. Our troops and the 
enemy were often, during Saturday afternoon, within 
a few feet of each other, in the midst of the pine 
slashings and swamp forests, and in their stealthy 
advance would suddenly find themselves looking 
in each other's faces ; and then would commence 
one of those exciting and sanguinary scenes not 
often witnessed, except in Indian warfare. Men 
skulking behind the nearest tree, or crouching down 
sheltered by a stump, singling out an enemy, taking 
deliberate aim, and if one dared to display his 
hand, or cap, or shoulder, instantly there was the 
crack of the gun of his foe. Often did our men, in 
such positions, take off the blouse and gently lift it 
out on the end of the ramrod ; this would draw out 
the enemy's fire ; then the blouse would fall as if 
the man was shot ; this would embolden his foe to 
look up and reveal his position for a moment, and 
then his own gun flashed, and possibly his enemy 
was forever harmless. Hundreds of such scenes oc- 



200 SEVERITY OF THE CONFLICT. 

cnrred. Some of our troops engaged in this con- 
test have told me that the face of the foe that fired 
at them for an hour was so distinctly daguerreotyped 
on the mind, that they would know the man for 
years wherever they should meet him. N^o man 
can pass over the scene without amazement. The 
balls must have fallen in an incredible number at 
the point on the battle-field where General Kear- 
ney's men so hotly contested every inch of ground 
on Saturday afternoon. In the swamp slashings to 
the right of the Williamsburg road are signs of a 
terrific conflict ; all the fallen trees are pierced and 
torn with musket-balls, grape-shot, and shells. A 
small sapling tree of about twenty-two feet in length, 
and about the size of a man's arm, I singled out as 
the one on which to count the number of balls that 
had struck it. I numbered twenty-five musket-balls 
as having pierced one side of the tree alone. The 
marks of this contest were so numerous on the stand- 
ing trees and stumps, and in the slashings, that my 
astonishment was that any one could have escaped 
with life. It appeared to me that not even a small 
bird could fly 

"Unscathed where fell this storm of bullets." 

Many of our brave men did indeed fall in this 
conflict, — but three out of five escaped without a 
wound. 

Our soldiers ever spoke with the greatest admira- 
tion of the coolness and bravery of Generals Heint- 
zleman. Hooker, Sumner, Kearney, and Couch. 
General Hooker on this day more than sustained the 
reputation he had obtained at "Williamsburg, as pos- 



ANECDOTE OF HEINTZLEMAN. 20X 

sessed of that clear-sightedness, and courage, and 
prophetic prognostication of the position and move- 
ments of the enemy, which have since placed him at 
the head of the Army of the Potomac. General 
Kearney showed himself equal to every emergency, 
dared every danger, and risked his life in the most 
hazardous positions. His men seemed to he capahle 
of performing anything under his eye, for their con- 
fidence in his courage and military sagacity was un- 
bounded. I have often heard the men speak at the 
camp-fires of his unruffled coolness during both of 
those days ; and they tell of General Heintzleman 
the characteristic story, that in the midst of the 
thickest of the fight on Saturday afternoon, a ^N'ew 
York colonel, who had been absent from his regi- 
ment on picket-duty, came hurrying up to the gen- 
eral with two companies, and earnestly inquired 
where he would find his brigade. ^'That, colonel, 
I cannot tell," said the general; "but if it is fight- 
ing you want, just go in, colonel; there is plenty 
good fighting all along the lines." 

Of Colonel A. Hays (now General Hays) General 
Heintzleman, in his report of the battle, spoke in 
the highest terms. He likewise had been separated 
from his regiment by detail duty, and when he 
snuffed the battle afar off* rushed to the front with 
the eagerness of a war-horse, and instantly com- 
menced collecting the loose, straggling soldiers, wan- 
dering without officers, and organized them into a 
corps of upwards of three hundred men. Animated 
by his eye and voice, they followed him with shouts 
into the thickest of the fight. I mentioned before 
that I had taken my position on one of the advanced 



202 GENEKAL KEARNEY'S ACUTENESS. 

redoubts in the field, and was liere looking with 
emotions that I can never describe upon the con- 
test, and again witnessed another illustration of the 
remarkable quickness and acuteness of General Kear- 
ney, who, though I was at some distance from him 
and his staff, saw me in a moment. He was seated 
on his celebrated grey. He turned his horse and 
came within speaking distance, and said : 

"What, sir, what, you here?" 

"Yes, general," I replied. 

"What brings you here, sir?" 

" My regiment is here," I replied, " and I wanted 
to see the battle." 

" This is no place for you, sir," said he. " Go to 
the rear, sir, to Savage Station, and report to me. 
All the men of my division that you find there 
wounded or dead, attend to them, sir, and I will 
thank you. Are you ready to report of the men 
that you took down to the White House ? " 

"Yes, sir," I replied, "I saw them all in their hos- 
pital wards before I left." 

"That's well," said he. "ITow go back and see 
to the poor fellows at Savage Station, and you will 
do a great deal better than to stand here and be 
killed." 

I then told the general that I had spent the entire 
night at Savage Station attending to the sick and 
wounded. 

"Well," said he, "report everything to me." 

I bowed, descended from my elevation, turned 
my face from the field, and stopped only when the 
tumult of battle seemed to swell up with great force. 
One remarkable thing I noticed on this field and 



ROBBERY OF THE DEAD. 203 

many others. There was a class of hattle thieves 
who picked every dead man's pocket, and many a 
wounded man's, before he could be reached by his 
companions or borne to the rear. There is, no doubt, 
a class of men with both armies who suspend fighting, 
and creep and crawl from one dead man to another. 
One thing was certain, that however numerous the 
dead on the battle-field, before their friends could 
return to them their money and their watches had 
been taken. 

This battle was very fatal to many of the finest reg- 
iments in the army. 

General Berry's brigade of brave Michigan troops 
suffered -'^+i- but fought with fierce determina- 
tion unequalled in any subsequent engagement. The 
105th Pennsylvania, the celebrated ^'wild cat" regi- 
ment, lost 255 men, — more than one-half of those 
brought into action, but contributed much to hold 
the enemy in check and prevent the execution of 
his plan of piercing our line, and thus hurling the 
broken fragments into James River and the Chicka- 
hominy. 

It became plain on Saturday afternoon that, cal- 
culating upon the swell of the Chickahominy conse- 
quent upon the very heavy rains that had recently 
fallen, the enemy had thrown his whole force on our 
left wing, basing his operations upon the hope that 
the high waters of the river would prevent our right 
wing reaching us ; that the swollen waters would ren- 
der impossible the passage of artillery, and sweep away 
the bridges ; therefore General Johnston seized this 
moment to annihilate our left wing, and to accomplish 
this brought out and hurled on us all his available 



204 REBEL STRATEGY AT FAIR OAKS. 

forces. When tlie battle liad vigorously begun, 
General Sumner, with tbe true instinct of an old 
warrior, comprehended the whole move; and gave 
orders for the advance of his corps across the Chicka- 
hominy. By incredible efforts he succeeded in urg- 
ing over before night all his men, and bringing with 
him several pieces of artillery. 

After General Sumner had crossed the river, he 
had no other guide to the scene of battle but the 
cannonading ; but hurrying up he succeeded in 
reaching the field in time to prevent Johnston sur- 
rounding our left wing, and thus saved our honor 
and the Army of the Potomac. For the four divi- 
sions composing this wing of the,"'"*'"^"' — >uld cer- 
tainly have been overcome by vastly superior num- 
bers, though they had fought with the bravery of 
Spartans. 

Before night separated the combatants, we knew 
with certainty that we had to contend with the en- 
tire force of the enemy ; and there should not have 
been a moment's hesitation in ordering across 50,000 
men from our right wing ; but the issuing of this 
order was delayed four hours, and a night march 
became impossible. Before morning the Chicka- 
hominy had rapidly risen, the bridges were afloat, 
and the passage of the right wing became impossi- 
ble ; and that delay prevented our triumphant en- 
trance into Eichmond on the 1st of June. 

During this day, the Sabbath, there was a con- 
tinuation of the scenes I have previously described 
in the tents and on the open ground at Savage Sta- 
tion. A great number of the wounded, however, 
were sent to the White House, to be placed in var^- 



THOMAS COATS. 205 

ous steamers whicli had been sent up the Pamnnky 
for the purpose of receiving them. 

The endurance of our wounded men was truly 
noble. They all appeared to think that the cause 
was of far more value than their lives. Many of 
them were very cheerful, though so severely injured 
as to die in a few days afterwards. 

Many most touching incidents occurred in connec- 
tion with these scenes, the wounded showing the 
deepest sympathy for those whom they thought in 
a worse condition than themselves. There were 
many instances of their refusing the cup of coffee 
or toddy, in order that it might be given to a 
greater sufferer. Many of these cases made upon 
my mind the deepest impression I have ever received 
of the primitive dignity and glory of human nature. 
One young man, Thomas Coats, sergeant of the 63d 
Pennsylvania, who was most painfully and mortally 
wounded, his right thigh being shattered, displayed 
a patience, a fortitude, and a submission that were 
really sublime. Three times we bore him up, 
racked with suffering as he was, and conveyed 
him to the cars, and each time were we doomed 
to be disappointed, for the cars were filled up by 
those who were stronger and better able to help 
themselves. The disappointment, the pain, the har- 
rowing scene, he bore without a murmur or a frown; 
and when we parted, with a countenance as placid as 
in perfect health and full of hope, he bade his friends 
and companions farewell, with no expectation of ever 
meeting them again. How many such young men 
have fallen, who, if they had lived, would have been 
18 



206 REBEL PEISONERS. 

centres of ever-widening influence and pillars in so- 
ciety ! 

We had taken two or three hundred prisoners ; 
these were assigned a certain district of the picket 
garden. The officers were respectable-looking, in- 
telligent men, and very willing to defend their cause. 
The soldiers were poorly clad, dejected looking, and, 
with rare exceptions, very ignorant ; but apparently 
no less gratified than amazed at the kind and the 
abundance of the food. They had been led to ex- 
pect the most cruel treatment from the Yankees, but 
now they confessed that they were a great deal better 
off as prisoners than they had ever been as soldiers. 
But they were very anxious to know their fate : 
""Were they to be sent to prison, tried for their lives 
and hung, or sent away to some distant country?" 
Occasionally some of these prisoners were sent with 
our men to dig the graves of the dead, and at such 
times there occurred some of the most amusing and 
interesting conversations I ever listened to. Some 
of the Confederate soldiers were able to paint in 
strong colors the character of the Yankees who had 
found their way South ; their tricks, meannesses, 
and sharp transactions. They complained of negroes 
tampered with, of books and tracts put into the 
hands of those who were inciting to insurrection, of 
hostility to slavery, of wagons sold made of rotten 
wood, of carriages without iron, of swindles in every 
department of business and trade, of violated pledges 
and compacts. They had lost all confidence in us, 
and did not wish to live under the same govern- 
ment. They wished a gulf dug as deep as the cen- 
tre of the earth, over which we could never pass to 



THE YANKEES VINDICATED. 207 

them. To this and much more some shrewd New 
Yorker or l^ew Englander who had heen down 
South, would reply, and picture the miserable con- 
dition of Southern society, the vices and cruelties 
of the aristocracy, the ignorance, indolence, and 
misery of the masses. "As for swindling, they 
were so stupid and withal so vain that they tempted 
every keen operator to pluck them, to quicken 
their wits and give them some sense. As for 
cheating, the whole South broke up every ten years, 
and robbed the IsTorth of hundreds of millions. And 
as to stealing, the Yankee never was born who 
could come within a hundred leagues of Floyd. As 
for getting along without us, they might as well at- 
tempt to fight without powder, or walk without feet. 
What had they that we did not give them ? Our 
teachers taught all their schools ; their houses were 
built by our mechanics ; their fields were cultivated 
with the ploughs and hoes made in our shops ; their 
railroads were created by our capital ; their calicoes, 
cloths, shoes, and stockings were made in our fac- 
tories ; our ships bore to foreign parts their cotton ; 
we baked their bread for them and put the butter 
on it, and sent it down to them hot for brealdast. 
Do without us ? Yes, it will be a poor do. When 
we were all the time helping you, you could scarcely 
get along. If we just take you at your word, the In- 
dians and 'Negroes will take all the South." 

Then another Southerner would have his story 
of griefs and wrongs. These conversations, so far 
from embittering the men towards each other, molli- 
fied their manners and spirits : they comprehended 
each other's position, and the respect of each for his 



208 DISTINGUISHED SURGEONS. 

opponent was evidently increased. And to the honor 
of our men be it said, I never saw any of that bitter- 
ness and malignant hate so often exhibited on the 
other side. I do not believe that one Confederate 
soldier had the least cause to complain of neglect or 
cruelty. 

I have spoken of a number of surgeons who at this 
time distinguished themselves by surgical operations 
of the rarest skill. Of this number were Doctors 
Page and Hall, of Boston, Doctor Bliss, of Michigan, 
and Doctor Swinburne, of Albany. The latter gentle- 
man had been sent to the army by Governor Mor- 
gan to minister relief to the wounded soldiers of that 
State, and to give them the benefit of his eminent 
surgical abilities. To a most unflinching hand he 
added the gentlest heart, always sparing when there 
was the least hope for a shattered limb, and by a 
thousand acts of kindness endearing himself to a 
multitude of sufferers. I shall have occasion to speak 
of him again in connection with the seven days' 
battles. I can never cease to feel grateful to Doctor 
Bliss, brigade surgeon of General Berry's brigade. 
He was sleepless and unwearied in his attention to 
the wounded, took every measure in his power for 
their relief and encouraged every one who would in 
any way minister to the comfort of those under his 
care. 

This was the more commendable, for there were 
surgeons who were too indolent or thoughtless about 
their wounded, and made no effort to obtain beds or 
covering, and were apparently indifferent to the 
many wants of the men suffering from exhaustion 
and pain. 



WOUNDED SENT NORTH. 209 

The value of a physician in such circumstances is 
more in securing a faithful and constant care on the 
part of the nurses in seeing that the patients are 
washed, their wants instantly attended to, their food 
suitable and frequent, and the stimulants adminis- 
tered and not drank by others, than in bandaging or 
amputations ; for while one wounded man requires 
that the broken limb should be cut off, ^ve require 
constant care lest they die of exhaustion and nervous 
prostration. 

In the course of a week all the wounded whose 
removal was possible were taken in the cars to the 
"White House, and thence transferred by boat to 
Fortress Monroe and IN'orthern cities. The most of 
them never returned, — one-fourth were maimed for 
life, one-fifth, after lingering for days and weeks on 
couches of pain and suffering, passed from earth for- 
ever, leaving desolate a thousand homes; and by 
many a stream the broken harp of hope was hung 
on the willows, and the song began in gladness 
ended in the sobbings of despair. 

On the Tuesday after the battle of Fair Oaks, 
I saw General Casey's division marching to the 
rear of the army. The day was one of continu- 
ous storm, the roads were covered with water, and 
the streams that ordinarily were but little brooks 
ran like rivers ; and on such a day and in such a con- 
dition of the country this division was remanded 
from its encampment in front and sent back six 
miles to the rear. And during the continuance of 
the tempest these soldiers were seen gliding along 
on the edge of the forest on the Williamsburg road, 
endeavoring in the bushes to escape the swamps of 
18* 



210 UNMERITED DISGRACE. 

the field and road. TVorn down with exertion, ex- 
hausted and sick, some had fallen out of the ranks, 
and were lying dov/n in the mud and water, or were 
seated on stones. These soldiers had none of the 
free, manly look which ought to sit upon the coun- 
tenance of every American in the army ; hut they 
were dejected, and doomed, without a hearing, to 
the most ignominious insult. 

I looked then with profound indignation on the 
scene ; and every time I reflected upon it, my aston- 
ishment has been increased that any American gen- 
eral should dare to inflict such an act of injustice 
and inhumanity. They were sent hack into the 
swamps of the Chickahominy without tents, and ex- 
posed, on one of the most inclement days I ever saw, 
to the fatigues of a long march, and to the disastrous 
consequences of exposure and disgrace. 

After the action described in the previous chapter, 
it was perfectly evident that our entire army should 
have been removed for safety and for success to 
James River. The battle of Fair Oaks made it plain 
that one wing of the army might be defeated before 
the other wing could be brought up to its aid ; and 
that widely extended as was our front, it was impos- 
sible to collect our forces in time to prevent the suc- 
cess of a combined attack of the enemy upon any 
vulnerable point. Much would likewise have been 
gained by removing our troops from the malarious 
swamps and muddy camps we then occupied to a 
higher ground and an open country. Such a change 
of base appears to have been contemplated by Gen- 
eral McClellan, and at one time resolved on, but de- 
ferred in execution until it was forced on us. W© 



INTRENCHMENTS THROWN UP. 211 

now commenced making regular advances as in 
siege, by throwing up earthworks and redoubts. 

On these one-third of the army was daily em- 
ployed, and the works constructed from the 1st to 
the 21st of June will remain for ages the monu- 
ments of our industry and perseverance. All these 
works were constructed under the fire of the enemy : 
there were frequent skirmishes along the line, and 
shell and round-shot fell during all working hours 
amongst our men. Still the work went on, and 
great mounds were thrown up, and vast embank- 
mients created, which will excite the astonishment 
of future travellers. 

During these weeks no day passed by without some 
sanguinary scenes being witnessed; and wounded 
men were brought in nearly every morning to the 
hospitals. Everything combined to exhaust and di- 
minish the effective force of our army. Our troops 
were day and night doing fatigue duty, which either 
means hewing down the forest, or digging and shov- 
elling in the intrenchments ; or they were on watch, 
frequently called to arms, ran out at double-quick 
through ponds and lakes to our front; then, added to 
all, the heat of the day was tropical, the sun smote 
with a power that withered and blasted our strength. 
From all these causes and operations, the sick of our 
army during these twenty days increased at a fearful 
rate. I have no doubt that one-half of the left wing 
was prostrated and unfit for duty before the com- 
mencement of our retreat. I knew some regiments 
that had left Hampton 1000 strong which could not 
now bring into the field 250 men ; and in less than 
two months, from the daily increase in the number 



212 CAMP DISEASES. 

of tlie sick, our entire army would liave melted 
away. 

The sufferings amongst the sick were of the most 
acute and painful character. They were tortured 
with constant thirst, generally with intense pain in 
the head, and frequently with delirium. The camp 
diseases, such as dysentery, diarrhoea, and miasmatic 
fevers, are very painful and exhausting. The hospi- 
tals had to be created on the field in the immediate 
neighborhood of our camps : often these were rude 
cabins, without floors and without beds, and gener- 
ally speaking destitute of any of those comforts that 
go to alleviate sickness at home. I^o wonder that 
many soldiers gave themselves up with stoic indif- 
ference to die. 

My employment at this time was, as before, the 
superintending of the removal of the sickest men of 
the division from the field-hospitals to those that had 
been created by the orders of General Kearney in 
various farm-houses. 



Stuart's cavalry raid. 213 



CHAPTER XIY. 

General Stuart's Cavalry Raid — Wild Commotion on the Pa- 
munky — Hospital at Carter's House — Arrival of General 
Franklin's Troops — Mr. Alvord's Labors. 

On the evening of the 13th of June I went to the 
White House on one of my semi-weekly excursions, 
for the purpose of seeing after the condition of the 
men in the hospitals, reporting the same to General 
Kearney, and obtaining supplies of medicines and 
sanitary stores. The day had been oppressively 
warm. I was invited on board the steamer Commo- 
dore by the surgeon in charge ; and during the eve- 
ning we were alarmed by the firing of cannon and 
musketry, and the intelligence that the enemy had 
taken possession of Tunstall's Station on the rail- 
road, and had attacked our troops on other parts of 
the line. Instantly the signal was given for the va- 
rious vessels at anchor at the White House to fall 
down stream. The whole night was one of the 
greatest commotion and alarm. This was the cele- 
brated raid of General Stuart, in which he, with 
1800 cavalry, swept round our entire rear. 

On the following day I saw several of our wounded 
men, and learned from them that they had been on 
duty at Tunstall's Station ; and that the enemy had 
attacked and overpowered them with vastly superior 



214 A BRAVE ENGINEER. 

numbers. A few moments before tbe arrival of tbe 
train bringing down a considerable number of offi- 
cers, and sick and wounded men from the army, tbe 
enemy had placed obstructions on the railroad track, 
and was determined to capture the train. The first 
indication that the conductor had of the presence of 
the enemy was a number of officers standing on the 
track, and waving their swords for the train to stop. 
There was a momentary check until the engineer 
comprehended the truth, and then he put on all 
steam and dashed forward with the greatest speed 
he could command. The Confederates now poured 
a deadly fire into the cars, wounding many of our 
men. A hundred guns were aimed at the engineer, 
and though struck, he did not forsake his post, but 
rushed on, sweeping the Rebels and the obstructions 
out of the way, and safely reaching the depot. 

"When the wounded and dead were brought in on 
these cars, and the many officers and soldiers sprang 
out to tell the story, the scene of excitement beggars 
description. Hundreds of negroes, running back to 
their miserable shanties, gathered up their little 
efiects; sutlers packed their goods, and hastened 
them to the vessels that were about slipping their 
cables ; numbers of officers ran to and fro to gather 
men to repel an attack ; others were busy securing 
the papers and goods of their departments, and issu- 
ing orders which no one obeyed. And any observer 
could see how easy it is for a few men, acting in 
concert, to scatter ten thousand acting without a plan 
or head. 

Colonel Ingalls, at the head of the commissary de- 
partment, acted with the greatest coolness ; and in 



RALSTON HOOVER. 215 

case the enemy liad made an attack, would have 
saved to the country three-fourths of the supplies 
and public property accumulated there, which was 
estimated, including the military and commissary 
stores, and shipping, at $5,000,000. 

The enemy, however, after being foiled in captur- 
ing the railroad train, gathered up such horses and 
guns as he could find, rode to Baltimore Cross- 
roads, and encamped for the night. We had a hos- 
pital near to this place, and to this General Stuart 
and the principal surgeon connected with his staff 
rode over. Their conduct was humane and gentle- 
manly, the surgeon coming in, indeed, and borrow- 
ing a small quantity of medicines, the general not 
permitting any of his officers to enter the house, 
saying he did not wish to alarm the sick men. He 
placed guards around the premises, to prevent any 
of our men leaving during the night and communi- 
cating with our army. Though General Stuart said 
he did not wish to alarm our sick men, yet that night 
was fatal to more than one. It is easy, in a certain 
stage of the typhoid fever, when the whole nervous 
system is at the lowest depression, to destroy a pa- 
tient by an alarm or shock. Of the sick in this hos- 
pital was one noble young man from Indiana County, 
Pennsylvania, Ralston Hoover, who died that night. 
He had been sick three weeks, and was thought to 
be recovering, and was deemed at this time to be 
out of danger. In his pocket, after his death, were 
found some of the most touching and beautiful let- 
ters from a child sister and a little brother, telling 
him how much they missed him, how they longed 
for his return, how they counted the dajs until he 



216 ARRIVAL OF GEN. FRANKLIN. 

miglit come back, but, above all, telling liow proud 
tbey were of their soldier brother. And they never 
heard a drum beat nor a fife play without thinking 
of him, and feeling glad that they had one noble 
brother to fight for his country. Poor children ! I 
read these touching and eloquent letters at his grave, 
and could not but add my tears to theirs, with deep 
regret that one who had such a home would never 
return to gladden with his presence the hearts of 
those that loved him. 

About this time General McCall's division, and 
other troops from the Eappahannock, under the 
command of General Franklin, were landed at the 
White House, and added some 15,000 fresh troops 
to our effective force. I saw this division when 
landed ; and in the march up to the railroad to dif- 
ferent positions I could not but look upon them with 
considerable satisfaction^ for their condition was so 
much better than that of the army which had been 
breathing the pestilential air of the Peninsula for 
^.hree months. 

I have before mentioned the hospital in Captain 
Carter's house. This was about one mile north-east 
of Savage Station, and a half mile from the railroad. 
Captain Carter was evidently a man of taste and en- 
terprise. Around his house were blooming roses 
and magnolias, and everything about the place gave 
evidence of refinement and cultivation. The out- 
houses and barns were not, as in most Virginia 
plantations, miserable tottering sheds, but painted 
and well inclosed. IN'ear to this house was one of 
the finest springs I have ever seen, overshadowed 
with oaks and mulberries. It rushed out as if laugh- 



A WELCOME SPKING. 217 

ing witli joy to escape from the dark imprisonment 
of caverns, but stopped to twine its arms lovingly 
around the roots of the magnolia and to kiss the 
hyacinth and lily. 

This spring was a fountain in the desert to hun 
dreds. Many a fevered and staggering soldier made 
this the first request of the morning, that we would 
permit some nurse to help them to the spring, and 
when taken there they would wash their burning 
hands and cool their throbbing temples in the 
waters ; and then seated with their backs against 
the trees, they would linger for hours, hearing the 
sweetest music and seeing every moment new beau- 
ties. They were dreaming of distant scenes. Such 
a spring was near the old homestead ; and father, 
mother, and sister might be this moment walking 
around it, and they could see their faces. Or just 
such a spring flowed by the door of their home in 
the mountains, and over pebbles just as white and 
shells like these ; and they could hear the voices of 
their children, and see the pale, anxious face of one 
dearer than all. Such spots and scenes have an 
amazing power in soothing and quieting the sick 
when despondent, shattered by weeks tf pain, and 
the future all dark. Such a place, whispering of 
the ceaseless benignity of Providence, brings to the 
heart the relief that the harp of David threw over 
the troubled King of Israel. 

To this house of Captain Carter was sent about 
150 of the sick of General Kearney's division. I 
was sent by Colonel Hays to take charge of them. 
A physician of the 105th Pennsylvania, Doctor 
Smith, visited us once or twice a day. His hospital 
19 



218 INHUMAN SURGEONS. 

was about one lialf mile from us on the railroad. 
Here likewise were 180 men. 

There had been brought to Meadow Station on 
Friday evening, the 27th of May, about 100 men, 
mostly of Hooker's division, to be sent to the White 
House on the cars. 

But before this was possible the enemy were in 
our rear, and those poor suffering men, without 
physicians and only three nurses, were left without 
food, and they knew not where to turn or to whom 
to appeal. Their surgeons were more than occupied 
with the demands made upon them in the field; 
and there was no one to look after these men. Sent 
away, they hoped they might be safe, but if not 
they could not help them. Their generals and reg- 
imental officers were every hour needed at their 
posts. And hemmed in, changing position, fighting 
every day, there was no man that could be spared 
to hunt up the sick and see to their removal. I say 
this to relieve many minds of the apprehension they 
have, that a number of our sick and wounded were 
cruelly neglected. That there were physicians who 
manifested great heartlessness, and who, when de- 
tailed for special service in hospitals and in remov- 
ing the sick, were inattentive, stupidly indifferent, 
and even drunken, is, to the disgrace of human na* 
ture, true ; but let us not demand of surgeons more 
than is possible. Some of them manifested the high- 
est moral heroism, and became martyrs to their hu- 
manity. If the Roman soldier who saved the life 
of a citizen was honored with an oaken chaplet, 
surely many of our surgeons deserve the gratitude 



REV. MR. ALVORD. 219 

of the country, and especially of the men whom they 
saved from perishing. 

The days which intervened between this and the 
commencement of the final struggle, are marked by 
few incidents or events of great interest. But in the 
meantime the heat of the sun had become tropical, 
the dense forests preventing the free circulation of 
air, and the fields being white and beaten : the sun 
smote us as if every ray was a drop of fire. This, 
together with the daily fatigue labors on the in- 
trenchments and redoubts, and the night duties of 
the watch, began to tell most disastrously on our 
men. The sick increased by hundreds, and all the 
hospitals were crowded. 

At this time my labors were entirely in the various 
hospitals connected with our division, and amongst 
the wounded men left at Savage Station. I had the 
invaluable aid of the Rev. Mr. Alvord, of Boston, who 
was in the army as secretary of the American Tract 
Society, and who gave his time and his horse and 
wagon for the carrying of supplies of clothing, food, 
and sanitary stores to our sick. I never appealed to 
this kind and noble man in vain, but invariably, 
however impassable the roads, however deep the 
swamp and flood, he would harness up his carriage 
to convey to the sufferers the supplies obtained. !N"ew 
England has sent many generous and excellent men 
into the army, but for none does she deserve more 
of the gratitude of the country than for the Rev. Mr. 
Alvord. 

Everything began to wear the appearance, to my 
eye, of despondency in the army. Rumors came to 



220 DEPRESSING RUMORS. 

US daily of the great increase of the Confederate 
forces, while ours were evidently rapidly diminishing. 
And it appeared to me that even in head-quarters 
''coming events w^ere casting their shadows before ; " 
and everything betrayed the absence of that vigor 
which is given by hope and distinctness of plan. 



SEVEN days' battles. 221 



CHAPTER XV. 

Commencement of the Seven Days' Battles — Second Battle of 
Fair Oaks, on Wednesday, June 25th — Battle of Mechanics- 
ville, on Thursday, June 20th — Battle of Gainesville, on Fri- 
day, June 27th — Scenes amongst the Wounded at Savage Sta- 
tion — Narrow Escape of Rev. Mr. Dickson — Mr. Brunot, of 
Pittsburg — Dr. Swinburne, of Albany. 

On the 25tli of June commenced the combined ad- 
vance of our army. General Heintzleman was com- 
manded by General McClellan to advance the entire 
front of the left wing, and this movement was suc- 
cessfully accomplished. This is sometimes called 
the second battle of Fair Oaks. Up to this time 
there had been quite friendly relations between our 
pickets and those of the enemy, often exchanging 
courtesies, trading tobacco, and passing from one 
line to the other the Neiv York Herald for the Rich- 
mond sheets. 

This was the first of those grand and never-to-be- 
forgotten contests called ''The Seven Days' Battles." 
We had been for many days in a state of intense 
expectation, for everything indicated that all was 
now ready for an advance on Richmond. It w^as 
therefore determined, as the first step, to push our 
lines from one-half to a mile in advance of our pres- 
ent position. 
19* 



222 SECOND BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS. 

The accomplisliment of this task was committed 
to General Hooker. 

lu front of General Hooker's encampment was a 
thick entanglement of low pines, vines, and ragged 
bushes, full of ponds and marshes. This wilderness 
was about five hundred yards wide, and beyond this 
an open field of half a mile in width ; and in this 
field were the rifie-pits, earthworks, and redoubts of 
the enemy. The plan was to drive the enemy from 
the forests and field, and establish our lines where 
his then were. The attacking column consisted of 
Grover's, Sickles's, and Robinson's brigades. Gene- 
ral Kearney was sent to protect the left flank, and 
the 19th Massachusetts, Colonel Hicks, was ordered 
to advance and protect the right. 

The three brigades mentioned advanced slowly, 
but steadily, into the thickets, and some distance 
within met and drove back the enemy's pickets. 
This was soon followed by a rapid and incessant 
firing, until in a few moments the forest was a scene of 
furious contest, and the ominous quiet was succeeded 
by the terrible din and clash of arms, and the roar 
of cannon and musketry. Soon nothing could be 
seen for the heavy cloud, rising up and twisting itself 
amongst the trees, hanging over the forest as a pall; 
and then streams of fire, like angry lightnings, would 
flash out from amongst the trees ; and anon an or- 
derly would rush from the gloom, covered with dust 
and blood, with garments torn, carrying reports or 
hasting for orders. 

In half an hour the skirmish extended along the 
entire line, and Kearney's and Hooker's divisions 
were engaged in the liveliest action ; and soon, from 



SECOND BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS. 223 

the arrival of fresh troops on hoth sides, the engage- 
ment assumed the magnitude of a battle. 

Our troops pushed steadily forward, and in less 
than an hour drove the enemv out of the forest 
into the open field, over which they fled and sought 
protection in their rifle-pits. Here our men raised 
the shout of triumph, which was taken up by bri- 
gade after brigade, and borne through the army. 

General Grover was about to order an advance on 
the enemy in their defences, when our troops were 
halted by an order from General McClellan. From 
some misapprehension of the actual condition of 
things, he ordered General Hooker to retire from 
the field of victory, and return to our original posi- 
tions ; but when the commander-in-chief came upon 
the scene of action at a later hour, he ordered our 
troops to advance and reoccupy the woods and fields 
they had taken, and before night the enemy was 
driven out of the rifle-pits, and from the fields, and 
we had gained a victory which cost us 640 of our 
best men in killed and wounded. 

About six o'clock the enemy came out in force 
and attacked General Robinson's brigade. He made 
a most resolute charge, led by a very brave regi- 
ment of Georgians, but was met by men equally as 
brave, was driven back, and left 300 men dead on 
the field. 

In this attack Lieutenant Cochran, of Franklin, 
Yenango County, Pennsylvania, received his death 
wound, — living some hours, and giving to those who 
stood around him on that night most comfortable 
assurance that he went up from the field of carnage 
iuto the bosom of our Lord. 



224 BATTLE OF MECHANICSVILLE. 

During the entire night our men were under arms, 
and every few moments there was an attack upon 
some part of our line, as if they were determined to 
win back what they had lost; but all these were only 
feints to fully occupy our attention, and to prevent 
reinforcements being sent to our right wing. 

At the time of Hooker's advance upon the enemy, 
on the 25th, we were full of hope that this was the 
beginning of a grand series of actions which would, 
in a few days, carry us victorious into Richmond. 
On the 25th we were successful, and hoped that the 
next day we would overcome half the objects lying 
between us and the Rebel capital. Thursday, the 
26th, came on so still and motionless, that the very 
trees seemed to be asleep, and the breath of the 
morning was without freshness. In the very earliest 
hour we heard on our right, upon the Chickahominy, 
the roar of battle. This was the long-continued and 
hard-fought battle of Mechanicsville, — where our 
troops, placed upon the Beaver Dam, and under the 
protection of some beautiful catalpa trees, defended 
their position during the entire day, and expelled the 
enemy. The attacking force was 60,000; the num- 
ber of our troops 35,000. At night tidings were 
brought in, cheering our hearts, that Porter had 
achieved a brilliant success. 

At this moment a new scene opened in the drama, 
and a new actor appeared upon the stage. On Wed- 
nesday night General Stonewall Jackson reached the 
camps on the north side of Richmond. Thursday 
found him deploying his army upon the rear of our 
right wing, compelling the evacuation of our posi- 
tions before Mechanicsville, and a retreat during the 



REV. WILLIAM DICKSON. 225 

night to Gaines's Mills. Friday morning came on, and 
so slowly do our illusions disappear in the presciice 
of truth and reality, that though we discovered the 
firing was much nearer to us than on the previous 
day, yet we did not entertain any distinct apprehen- 
sion that the enemy was coming closer to us, and 
that the whole army was already in retreat. On this 
day was fought the battle of Gaines's Mills, in which 
Porter's division so bravely struggled against over- 
whelming odds. 

During this action a dear friend, the Rev. William 
Dickson, chaplain of the 12th Pennsylvania Reserves, 
ran a perilous journey, which I suppose he has no 
desire to renew. He was in an hospital, attending to 
the wounded men. The hospital house being in the 
shadows of a ravine, the enemy, in order to outflank 
us, were pushing several columns up the ravine. 
Soon the officers, hurrying back from the points of 
attack, shouted to all in the hospitals to flee, for the 
enemy was at the door. Mr. Dickson ran up the hill- 
side, and looking down the ravine, could distinctly 
see the gleam of the enemy's guns ; but on the sum- 
mit he heard the cry, "Lie down ; you are right in 
our way." And at the moment there was a roar 
from one of our guns, and a shell shrieked by him ; 
and knowing that the guns are fired in line, one gun 
succeeding another, he marked the flash, ran a few 
steps, then halting waited for the next thundering 
crash, and then again halted, and thus ran wdth 
safety the gauntlet of two batteries. And as often 
as they cried to him, "Out of the way; you'll be 
shot," he replied, "Fire away; I'll take care of my- 



226 GLOOMY PROSPECTS. 

self," a coolness only gained by being often under 
fire. 

During tliis day 600 or 700 wounded men were 
brought in from the battle-fields to Savage Station. 
For some unknown reason the wounds were not so 
severe as in the previous engagements. Many were 
struck in the feet and arms, and the flesh wounds 
were more numerous than at the battle of Fair Oaks. 
But again were renewed the painful, excruciating 
scenes of suffering that paralyzed and benumbed 
the faculties of the most benevolent. It now began 
to be apparent to us that a retreat from our present 
position was inevitable, and that we must fall back 
upon the Pamunky or James River. The former 
was the course that the enemy expected us to take : 
the retreat upon James River, however, was chosen 
by General McClellan. The right wing of the army 
passed the Chickahominy in safety during Friday 
night, bringing with it nearly all our guns. 

On the evening of Friday, the 27th, General McClel- 
lan changed his head-quarters from near the Chicka- 
hominy to Savage Station ; and the wounded men 
brought in from the field, and couriers arriving at 
head-quarters, made us aware of the fact that our 
right was in full retreat across the Chickahominy ; 
and now, if not before, the peril of the army stared 
us in the face. We knew that Jackson was in our rear, 
sweeping down the Pamunky, and would, in a few 
hours at most, cut off our communications with the 
"White House. Broken squadrons of troops, and dusty 
and wounded officers, were arriving during the entire 
night, increasing our consternation. Groups of men 
were seen collected together discussing, with anxious 



PERIL OF THE ARMY. 227 

faces, OTir probable destiny and fate. In spite of all 
that could be done to avoid inquiry, and to throw us on 
a false scent, our real condition began to make itself 
sensible to every mind and to blanch a thousand 
cheeks. Every way we looked there was destruction 
and death. Cut off from the base of our supplies, in 
a country surrounded by our foes, embarrassed by 
thousands of wounded and sick men, with all the 
avenues of escape closed up, the prospect before us 
was most gloomy and appalling. 

During the entire night all was hurry and confu- 
sion. Officers arriving in haste and departing in even 
greater haste ; orderlies quickened by imperious com- 
mands to hasten to every part of the army. Con- 
sternation reigned everywhere ; the uncertainty in re- 
gard to our future movements palsied every one. The 
gloom of this night was greatly increased by the 
constant arrival of ambulances bearing the wounded, 
of others borne in on stretchers and the shoulders 
of their companions, and again, as at Fair Oaks, all 
the open grounds around the house of Mr. Savage, 
all the floors of the barns and stables and outhouses 
were covered with a ghastly multitude, bleeding, 
groaning, and dying. 

Saturday morning was ushered in with a quiet 
unusual and almost unnatural in the Peninsula — not 
a gun was fired. This was owing to the fact of the 
enemy looking for us on the banks of the Chicka- 
hominy, and not anticipating our retreat on James 
River. General Stoneman had been detached with 
two regiments of infantiy and one of cavalry to 
amuse and deploy the enemy in the direction of 
the Pamunky: this succeeded. We had been twelve 



228 COMMUNICATIONS CUT OFF. 

lioiirs marching to our new base before the enemy 
became aware of our plans. Durhig Saturday our 
immense baggage train, between 5000 and 6000 
wagons, was dispatched along the "Williamsburg 
road, followed by the ambulance train ; and during 
the day Generals Porter, Sykes, and McCall, with 
their divisions, passed over the railroad, taking the 
direction towards Williamsburg. Our communica- 
tions with the White House were not cut off until 
ten o'clock on Saturday morning ; for we had already 
sent down a train of cars filled with wounded men, 
and another train was laying at Savage Station with 
500 wounded men, waiting the signal to start, when 
the telegraphic Avires suddenly ceased working. I 
was in the telegraphic offiae when this was an- 
nounced by the operator. Our worst fears were now 
realized. It was certain the enemy was in our rear. 
The train moved down the road three or four miles, 
to learn, if possible, the condition of things at the 
White House; but failing to hear anything satisfac- 
tory, it returned to the station ; and for several hours 
the poor, broken, maimed men waited and hoped, 
and rejected the offer of friendly hands that proposed 
to remove them from the cars, and place them on 
beds upon the ground. 

W^e waited in a state of the most gloomy expecta^ 
tion for tidings from the White House, still hoping 
and praying that our fears might be unreal. In 
the meantime everything wore an aspect the most 
sombre. 

The wounded had increased to the number of 
2000 ; the sick lying in the various hospitals in the 
camps and country-houses were brought in and 



A surgeon's trials. 229 

lifted out of tlie ambulances, and placed on the 
ground ; the drivers departed, and without nurses, 
physicians, or comrades, they were left in that scene 
of misery. Hundreds of these, as I passed along, 
beckoned to me, or uttered a low, beseeching cry, 
^'Doctor, we are not to be left here, are we? " ^'Is 
there no water, doctor?" ''Our wounds have not 
been dressed for three days." "We have had no 
medicines." "I have no blanket, doctor, and suffer 
greatly with the cold." 

The number of surgeons who had been detailed 
for service here was much smaller than was abso- 
lutely necessary for so many patients demanding care 
the most constant and watchful. For such is the 
great draft upon the nervous system, that a surgeon 
can perform but few capital operations in a day 
without complete prostration and danger to his life. 
And I soon discovered that a surgeon cannot breathe 
the atmosphere poisoned with the exhalations of dis- 
organized flesh and blood, without very soon suffer- 
ing from an exhaustion which appears to palsy every 
vital power. And after being for weeks with the 
wounded, and dreswng a multitude, I learned to be 
more merciful in my judgment on physicians in hos- 
pitals; for I have been often compelled to turn away 
from many who came to my tent door, and begged, 
with tears, that I would wash and bandage their 
wounds, and destroy, with chloroform and spirits of 
turpentine, the maggots that tormented them. But 
sick and fainting from breathing an air so offensive, 
from sights so ghastly, from groans and shrieks of 
pain which the most gentle hand must wring from 
the sufferer in dressing his wounds, I have fled from 
20 



230 HARASSING UNCERTAINTY. 

what I could no longer endure. I now began to 
compreliend tlie cause of the intense craving for 
stimulants, especially for brandy and whisky, on the 
part of surgeons : the exhaustion was thus repaired, 
and they were able to endure what would have been 
otherwise impossible. 

All of Saturday was spent in the most wearisome 
and distressing uncertainty. There were a thousand 
rumors of things most improbable : but we were pre- 
pared to believe anything, however extravagant, for 
we were like sailors who, by the sudden wreck of 
their noble ship, were cast into the sea, and on 
broken fragments borne they knew not where, and 
in the terror of the hour compelled to anticipate 
the greatest misfortune. 

As yet the generals and prominent army officers 
kept to themselves the purposes of the future. The 
soldiers were made to think that they were march- 
ing to guard the bridges of the Chickahominy. The 
whole weight of our disaster did not fall on us to- 
day. During the day great numbers of wounded 
who had fallen near the Chickahominy were brought 
in. Many that had been wounded beyond the stream, 
in the battle of the previous day, had been left be- 
hind in the night retreat ; and after incredible hard- 
ships and dangers, had dragged themselves to the 
banks of the river, found some one that pitied them 
and helped them over, and now were brought into 
the hospital. The tragic scenes and hairbreadth 
escapes of that night would fill a volume of as in- 
teresting story as was ever published. 

We had now at Savage Station about 2500 
wounded men. They were lying in the various 



DR. JOHN SWINBURNE. 231 

• 

houses before mentioned. Mr. Savage, like au orien- 
tal, appeared to have built a bouse for every birth- 
day and for every child that came to him, and now 
a man of gray hairs, he was surrounded by a village. 
Into all these houses the wounded were borne, and 
besides these places of shelter there were pitched 
fully 300 tents ; for every tent were fifteen or twenty 
men. To three tents there was assigned a nurse ; 
and, again, a surgeon to every four or five tents. 
These hospital tents being arranged in streets, every 
surgeon had his own ward, which might include 100 
or 150 patients. There were six or eight surgeons, 
mostly brigade surgeons, to whom was assigned the 
task of amputations. Besides these we were so for- 
tunate as to have with us at this time Dr. John Swin- 
burne, of Albany, who had been sent to the Army 
of the Potomac previous to the battle of Fair Oaks 
by Governor Morgan, anticipating that his services 
might be of benefit to the soldiers of his State ; and 
after having displayed his pre-eminent surgical abili- 
ties on that occasion, he was again sent, and arrived 
just in season to be the greatest of benefactors. 

Of this man I cannot speak in terms of too high 
praise. He was thoughtless of himself, forgetful even 
of the wants of nature, untiring in his labors, uniting 
to the highest courage of man the tenderness of a 
woman, and the gentleness of a child. In that ter- 
rible hour, when other surgeons were worn out and 
exhausted, no labor appeared to diminish his vigor. 
After days of toil and nights of sleeplessness, he was 
as fresh and earnest as though he had stej)ped forth 
from a night of quiet sleep ; and while others be- 
came impatient, and had to escape from those scenes 



i232 ZEALOUS CHAPLAINS. 

and seek repose, he operating for hours at the time, 
found relaxation and refreshment in going from tent 
to tent, counselling the surgeons, advising the nurses, 
and speaking words of cheer to the wounded and 
the dying. 

Dr. Swinburne was left in charge at Savage Station, 
and so long as our army was near us, we had phy- 
sicians for each of the wards ; but on Saturday many 
of these were ordered away to join their regiments. 
Dr. Smith, of the 105th Pennsylvania, at the hospital 
on the railroad, of which I have spoken, was one of 
the physicians ordered to his regiment, in conse- 
quence of which all the sick in these hospitals, — the 
Meadow Station, Railroad house, and Carter's house, 
— were left under my care. It was my custom to 
spend several hours each day at Savage Station. 
The demand for my labors, however, was not so 
great before we became prisoners as afterwards, be- 
cause there were several chaplains, whose regiments 
were near, who were enabled frequently to visit the 
hospitals. 

I often met, going from tent to tent, the Rev. Mr. 
Guilder, of the 40th ITew York; the Rev. Mr. 
Barnes, of the 26th :N'ew York ; the Rev. Mr. Fuller, 
of the 16th Massachusetts; the Rev. Mr. Glen, of the 
103d Pennsylvania ; and the Rev. Mr. McAdams, of 
the 57th Pennsylvania. There were, doubtless, many 
others who faithfully discharged their duties, and 
spent much of their time in ministering to the com- 
fort of our suffering men. 

Greatly for the relief of the wounded, there had 
arrived, some days previous to the battles, the Rev. 
Mr. Reed, of AYashing-ton, District of Columbia, who 



FELIX B R U N T. 233 

brought with him hospital stores and sanitary goods 
contributed by an association in ISiew York. These 
were faithfully used, and were of unspeakable bene- 
fit. To Mr. Reed had been assigned a considerable 
number of nurses and assistants, and thus the chari- 
ties of distant benefactors were borne to every tent. 
Every two or thi-ee hours these nurses were sent to 
the sickest and most exhausted men with nourish- 
ment, such as hot broth and milk toddy ; and thus 
the dimly smoking flax was not wholly quenched, and 
the bruised reed not broken. Mr. Eeed showed 
himself, through all this time, to be a true man ; and 
never was a benefaction more like one sent from 
heaven. 

There was likewise another, a layman, a man whose 
name will be held in everlasting remembrance by a 
multitude whom he fed, clothed, comforted, and 
prayed with, — Felix Brunot, Esq., of Pittsburg, Penn- 
sylvania. He came to us as the representative of a 
benevolent association of that city, and brought with 
Mm as assistants a number of young men. Some of 
these were students, sons of wealthy parents, who 
were prompted by the purest benevolence to come 
to the army at this critical hour. 'No man could 
have appeared amongst us more eminently fitted for 
the time than Mr. Brunot. With a piety most un- 
aftected and sincere, with a heart overflo's^ang with 
sympathy, with a kindness that never wearied, he 
went forth from tent to tent, ministering to each as 
charity would dictate, and as the circumstances de- 
manded. He had likewise brought with him large 
stores of such things as were needed in such a time 
as this. Amongst the events that we look upon as 
20* 



234 THE CARNIVAL OF DEATH. 

indicative of the kindly providence of God, was the 
sendino; to ns for this hour such men as Mr. Brunot 
and his fellow-laborers in his work of love; and 
they voluntarily remained, to endure the dangers 
and miseries of captivity. 

There had been at one time, on Saturday morning 
about nine o'clock, very heavy filing ; but the Con- 
federates, fully assured that our army would fall back 
on the Pamunky, made no effort on Saturday to 
cross the Chickahominy. But we knew that this 
quiet was only for a day. In the meantime, though 
one enemy did not appear, another did. 

Death came to many ; and the poor fellows that 
had died during the night were every morning seen 
lying on stretchers outside the tents, and as soon as 
possible borne away to the place in the orchard where 
all our dead were interred. They were folded up in 
their blankets, gently let down in the grave, their 
overcoats placed over them ; and if a chaplain was 
present a prayer was made, and dust to dust, he was 
covered from our sight forever. Very often some 
friends would carve on a board the name, company, 
and regiment of the deceased, and the place of his 
birth. A large number of the noblest men of our 
army lie around Savage Station, and to a thousand 
hearts the spot is sacred, for their dead are there. 

It was one of the saddest scenes of those battle 
days to meet in the evening some one who spoke 
strongly of his hopes of life, of return to his home, 
and how soon his mother or wife would have him 
well, and in the morning return and find his place 
empty. He had died in the night : we would step 
out from the tent, lift the blanket from the face, and 



RETREAT TO JAMES RIVER. 235 

there, cold and silent, was the companion of yester 
day. Death often impresses a most noble look on 
the brow, as if the dying one had caught glimpses 
of the grandeur of the Infinite, and it left its impress 
in the majestic solemnity of his face. Often did I 
find the face singularly placid and composed, and 
much more beautiful than in life. 

During the entire day of Saturday the various regi- 
ments and columns of the right wing marched by 
Savage Station, taking the Williamsburg road for 
the James River. The advance was very slow, for 
beyond our own line we knew nothing of the enemy, 
and therefore there were frequent halts of our army 
for throwing out skirmishers and scouts. In a re- 
gion of almost impervious swamps and forests it was 
easy to entrap an army into an ambuscade, and there- 
fore the necessity for the greatest caution. Li this 
region invaluable aid was given to us by the negroes. 
They were our only guides in the entangled mazes 
"We had not the slightest knowledge, from previous 
reconnoissances, of this forbidding region. This 
greatly increased, therefore, the disadvantages under 
which we advanced and struggled, and threw a deeper 
gloom over the army; and the question was often 
asked: ''Why had not all this country been fully 
explored ? Why not all these roads long since felt 
by our cavalry ? Surely somebody has been asleep ! " 



236 ADVANCE OF THE ENEMY. 



CHAPTER XYI. 

Sunday, June 29^^. 

Consternatioii and Alarm in the Hospital — Scene at Savage Sta- 
tion — The drawing in of our Pickets — The Destruction of our 
Military and Commissary Stores — The Burning Train — The 
Grand Appearance of Sumner's Rear-guard — Battle of Savage 
Station. 

Sabbath morning dawned upon us, one of the 
clearest and warmest mornings of summer. All that 
could arise were up with the earliest light, for we 
knew this was to he a day of important events, and 
were very uncertain of beholding the setting sun. 

I went from room to room, prescribed for the 
patients, ordered breakfast, gathered the nurses, and 
gave them the instructions for the day. At the same 
time I sent out two of the nurses to report the 
appearance of affairs about us, and if an}i:hing could 
be seen of the enemy, or if our troops were visible. 

They soon returned, reporting that several regi- 
ments were drawn up in line of battle near us, and 
that the officers of our army had recommenced our 
removal from the hospital, for it might be in a few 
moments in the midst of a battle-field. For the 
enemy was crossing the Chickahominy below us, 
and would most certainly advance upon our troops 
through the ravines leading up from thf valley, past 
the house we were in. 



ALARM AT THE HOSPITAL. 237 

I went out into the fields, and saw the long, dark 
lines of Meagher's Irish Brigade drawn up on the 
bluffs overlooking the river. I saw most distinctly 
the tents of the enemy in the open fields on the 
opposite heights, and heard the sound of axes and 
hammers at work cutting a road and constructing a 
bridge. 

In a few moments Colonel Burke, of the 63d !N'ew 
York, rode up to the gate of the hospital, called for 
me, and strongly urged the removal of all the in- 
mates, as the probability was now almost a certainty, 
that in a few moments the enemy would rush up 
and plant their batteries in the field about us, and 
the house and barns would be seized by one party 
and the other alternately as the places of rallying 
and defence. He said he had been instructed by 
General Meagher to warn us, and urge our removal. 

I answered the colonel that we were without am- 
bulances ; that every one had been ordered away ; 
that we had not one wagon, and were without horses, 
except my saddle horse and baggage pony ; that we 
had not more than six men well enough to help the 
others away; and for these to remove one hundred 
and fifty sick men, some of them in a dying con- 
dition, was simply impossible. We would have to 
remain and trust to God, as we had done before. 

The kind-hearted colonel was unwilling to leave 
us in a condition which he deemed so desperate, and 
he lingered several minutes, trying to counsel and de- 
vise some way for our escape. He said he would send 
men, if possible, from his regiment ; but every man 
was needed at his post, and if he did, he could not 
take xhe responsibility, for the place to which he 



238 SCENE AT SAVAGE STATION. 

bore our men miglit be tbe spot of the severest 
carnage. But he urged me to ride up to head-quar- 
ters, to state our condition and the prospect for a 
battle around us, and urge, with all the eloquence 
possible, our instant removal. I thought it due to 
him and the men of whom I had charge, to follow 
his advice. I rode with all haste to Savage Station. 
As I approached it, I beheld the long lines of army 
wagons and ambulances stretching for miles, slowly 
retiring in the direction of James River. Whicn I 
reached General Heintzleman's tent, I found every- 
thing foreshadowed an immediate removal; generals 
were there for council and commands — orderlies 
hurrying backwards and forwards in the wildest haste 
— surgeons, commissaries, colonels, crowding for 
directions and help. l!Tow comes in a captain, with 
clothes torn and sword bent, with the tidings that 
the wagon train was hopelessly locked, and the 
troops were unable to proceed ; then comes another, 
reporting that the enemy was crossing the Chicka- 
hominy at the Grapevine Bridge, and might be soon 
upon us. Another, that Jackson and his troops had 
taken the "WHiite House, and destroyed stores and 
transports. Another announced that the woods were 
full of scouts and spies of the enemy, who were 
stealing across in small squads, and even now cap- 
turing sick officers and small parties who had strayed 
into the by-roads. All these announcements created 
a fresh commotion, and orderlies were despatched 
with messages, and officers with commands. 

The general issued the orders with all the calm- 
ness of one familiar with the greatest dangers. He 
listened most kindly to my statement, and told me 



DEVOTION OF MR. BRUNOT. 239 

that nothing could be done to help me ; that all the 
wounded at Savage Station would have to be left 
behind, and that General McClellan had ordered all 
the ambulances to depart unencumbered ; that four 
or jB.ve thousand wounded and sick men would so 
embarrass the army that escape might be inapossible ; 
and that much as it was to be regretted, it was a 
matter of stern necessity to leave our wounded 
in the hands of the enemy. 

I asked him what he deemed my duty under the 
circumstances ; that I could not now see Colonel 
Hays or General Kearne}^ and felt uncertain what, 
in this posture of affairs, they would desire me to do. 

He replied: ''I cannot advise you. If you remain, 
you will become a prisoner ; no man can tell you what 
you may have to endure ; you will lose all. You 
have no commands holding you here, and if you 
please to go with the army, no one ought to blame 
you." 

I had hoped he would order me to remain, for to 
leave the men under my charge I felt was dishonor- 
able and cruel, and with them I had resolved to 
stay, live or die ; but I wished to be defended in 
my position by the command of such a man. I left 
the general's tent, and soon found my friend, Mr. 
Brunot, and learned that he, with that true, unflinch- 
ing, and martyr-like devotion to the cause which he 
deemed to be right, which pre-eminently distin- 
guished him, had resolved to remain and share the 
sorrow and captivity of those who had poured out 
their blood for their country. 

I was strengthened in my purpose by this heroic 
resolve, and rode back through the forest to Car- 



240 ADVICE TO SICK AND WOUNDED. 

ter's house, for the first time fully realizmg the fate 
before us, and thanking God that it was my privi- 
lege to aid and comfort men who had borne greater 
hardships, and braved greater dangers, than I had 
been called to meet. "When I reached the hospital, 
the lines of our forces were still standing under 
arms, facing the valley, and each moment expecting 
the appearance of the enemy from the forests on the 
stream. 

I had as soon as possible the officers and men as- 
sembled under the shadow of a mulberry tree in our 
back grounds. All the sick who could walk, or be 
assisted, were likewise brought down. 

I read to them a short portion of the E"ew Testa- 
ment, and then explained to them the actual position 
of things; that our army was retreating towards 
James Eiver, and that our division had already 
started ; and I advised such of them as felt they could 
walk a few miles to fall into the retiring columns ; 
that some kind-hearted driver might permit them to 
ride, or that with the troops, if they should faint, some 
way would be provided to carry them on ; that even 
if they should have to stop every few rods, it would 
be better than to fall into the hands of the enemy. I 
entreated the stronger to help the weaker ; that God 
would send his angels to strengthen and defend 
them, if they, like the good Samaritan, lifted up 
and aided those who were ready to perish by the 
way; that the stores should be opened, and every 
man provided with all he needed. 

I likewise told them that I had now no apprehen- 
sion that the enemy would cross the river below us, 
for they were crossing one mile higher up ; to take 



ADVICE TO SICK AND WOUNDED. 241 

their time, and pack up wliat they thought they 
could carry ; if they could hear their guns, to take 
them ; they might be better to-morrow, and able to 
strike another blow ; and that I hoped they would 
remember their safety was not in any human arm or 
defence, but in the watchful care of that God in 
whose hand was their breath and all their ways ; if 
they fell down exhausted, to pray to Him ; if they 
could not rise again, and were left alone, to lift their 
eyes to Him to whom the dying thief looked and 
hoped, and died in peace. If they fell into the hands 
of the enemy, to trust God, and even their enemies 
should be made at peace with them ; and if taken 
captives, not to be ashamed of their cause, but to 
defend it boldly. "Do not let the enemy think that 
our soldiers are without consciences or principles. 
They are rebels and traitors, but you are the sol- 
diers of law, and the representatives of the princi- 
ples for which our fathers fought ; and do not for- 
get that a prisoner does -not part with all his rights, 
and though deprived of his gun, he is still at liberty 
to defend his government and her constitution." 

Those who were too ill to think of making the 
effort to escape I advised to endure patiently their 
fate, and to remember that there were thousands of 
their brave companions-in-arms that were in a worse 
condition than themselves ; and that lying at Sav- 
age Station were many of these that had to be left 
behind, but to bear calmly what was one of the in- 
evitable calamities of war. 

We then sang together the beautiful hymn com- 
mencing, 

** Jesus, my God, I know His name." 
21 



242 SCENE IN THE HOSPITAL. 

I tlien prayed witli tliem, and committed eacli one 
and their families to Him in whose sight they were 
of ''more value than many sparrows." 

After the service was concluded, the agitation that 
had reigned in all minds was evidently stilled, and 
each felt that we were safer, because we had in- 
voked the Divine protection ; but the inquiry began 
to run from lip to lip : "Doctor, what are you going 
to do? Are you going to leave us? What will be- 
come of us, if you forsake us?" I soon relieved 
their apprehensions on this score by telling them 
that I would never leave them; and I was more than 
compensated for all the suffering that followed by 
the gratitude and blessing of many. 

"While I was yet speaking, Mr. Douglass, one of 
the nurses in the hospital over which Dr. Smith had 
presided, came to me and said that more than half 
of the patients in that hospital had left in pursuit of 
the army, and that the remainder desired to come 
over and place themselves under our care. He went 
back, and in a few moments, on stretchers and in 
the arms of their companions, the sick were brought 
to us ; and soon after Mr. Luke, the hospital stew- 
ard, and Sergeant Temple, came in, having followed 
the army some distance, and finding the woods full 
of the enemy, had returned. I was again urged by 
oflicers and men to go up to Savage Station, and as- 
certain the state of things now, for possibly there 
might be some change. I could find at least what 
would be the best road for them to take in retreat. I 
went .again to the Station, and learned from my 
friend. Colonel S. McKelvy, that the order had al- 
ready been issued for the destruction of all remaining 



THE PICKETS WITHDRAWN. 243 

ammunition and commissary stores. He then in- 
formed me that the long train of cars, forty or fifty 
in number, was being loaded with shells, kegs of 
powder, and cartridges, and that in a few minutes 
the work of destruction would begin. I could see, 
mounting above the trees, the flames from the vast 
commissary stores at Fair Oaks Station. 

I entreated Colonel McKelvy to permit me to 
place in the cars a barrel of coffee, twenty boxes of 
crackers, a bag of rice, three or four barrels of po- 
tatoes, and three barrels of dried apples. This he 
had done himself, and ordered the engineer to run 
down the road as far as Meadow Station and the 
Railroad house, and throw off for us these articles, 
and such other things as were likely to be in de- 
mand. 

This was done, and thus was secured to us the food 
that preserved our lives for a fortnight. "When I re- 
turned to the hospital at Carter's house, our troops 
had been removed and concentrated around Savage 
Station ; but as they were marching away one of the 
colonels rode up to the gate and said he was with- 
drawing his pickets, and that it was highly probable 
the enemy would be there in less than half an hour, 
and urged all to make their escape. As I ap- 
proached the house through the fields, I beheld a 
long, scattered line of the patients staggering away, 
some carrying their guns, and supporting a com- 
panion on an arm, — others tottering feebly over a 
staff which they appeared to have scarcely strength 
to lift up. One was borne upon the shoulders of 
two of his companions, in the hope that when he 
had gone a little distance he might be able to walk. 



244 COLONEL KIRK WOOD. 

One tiad already sat down fainting from the exer- 
tion of a few steps ; some had arisen from the first 
rest, staggered forward a few steps and fell in the 
road, but after a few moments in the open air, and 
stimulated hy the fear of the enemy, they could walk 
more strongly. J^ever have I beheld a spectacle 
more touching and more sad. They retired one by 
one across the fields, and were lost in the forest; 
and of all that throng of sick and wounded men not 
more than five or six fell into the hands of the 
enemy ; the rest struggled forward until they reached 
the army, and borne on by a living stream, knew not 
how they were carried forward. 

Of the number that left us on this day were 
several officers, and amongst the rest Colonel Kirk- 
wood, of the 63d Pennsylvania, who had for two 
weeks been confined to the hospital with typhoid 
fever ; and when he resolved to escape he had to be 
lifted on his horse, and attended by his colored ser- 
vant left us to find, if possible, his regiment. But 
after going out into the forest, the black boy was 
frightened at the appearance of some Confederate 
soldiers near them, and at once fled, leaving the 
colonel unable to guide his horse, and at the mercy 
of the enemy. Just at this juncture one of our 
nurses, by the name of Scott, of the 57tli Pennsyl- 
vania, who had gone some distance with his com- 
rades to help them, was returning, and seeing the 
colonel, generously went to his assistance, led his 
horse, and held him on until he saw him safe in the 
bosom of the army. 

I returned to Savage Station, taking nurses with 
me for the purpose of securing such articles as would 



DESTRUCTION OF ARMY STORES. 245 

be needed at the hospital, and would otherwise be 
destroyed. 

About noon the work of destruction commenced, 
and no language can paint the spectacle. Hundreds 
of barrels of flour and rice, sugar and molasses, salt, 
and coffee, were consigned to the flames ; and great 
heaps of these precious articles in a few moments 
lay scorching and smouldering. A long line of 
boxes of crackers, fifteen feet high, were likewise 
thrown into the mass; and the workmen seemed 
to have a savage and fiendish joy in consigning 
to the flames what a few days afterwards they w^ould 
have given thousands to obtain. The scene was 
altogether unearthly and demoniac. The men, 
blackened with smoke and cinders, were hurling 
into the fire boxes of goods, tents, fragments of 
broken cars, and barrels of whisky and turpentine ; 
and then would be hurled mto the burning mass 
boxes of ammunition, and explosion followed ex- 
plosion, throiving up fragments of shells into the 
heavens, and the flames mounted above the tops of 
the loftiest trees. The ammunition was not so easily 
disposed of, and shells, kegs of powder, etc., were 
placed in the cars. 

The engine attached to this train was ready at 
any moment to spring on the track; each of the 
cars was set on fire, and when the flames began to 
wind around the wooden structures the train was 
put in motion. Being a descending grade it was 
soon rushing with the wildest fury, and every revo- 
lution of the wheels added to the volume of the 
flames, until the eye ceased to see the structure of 
the cars, and only beheld a terrific monster, which, 
21* 



246 THE BURNING TRAIN. 

like some huge serpent of fire, had come forth to 
add a new feature of horror to the scene. On and 
on it rushed, with a tread which caused the hills to 
tremble. I could not think of anything as a suit- 
ahle representation of a spectacle so grand, but that 
of a thousand thunderbolts chained together, and 
wreathed with lightnings, rushing with scathing fury 
and the roar of the tornado over the trembling earth. 
In a few seconds the engine, cars, and wheels were 
nothing but one long chain of fire, a frightful me- 
teor flasliing past us. 

The distance from Savage Station to the Chicka- 
hominy is about two and a half miles. I had placed 
myself on one of the eminences near our hospital, 
from which I could command a fine view of the rail- 
road and the coming train. I knew that the long 
bridge over the river was burned. It plunged past 
me like some vast monster from a sea of fii^e. On 
it thundered until there was a stupendous crash, 
and far up in the heavens were thrown burning 
fragments of the cars. This was instantly succeeded 
by the explosion of innumerable great bombs and 
kegs of powder. Xow a great shell dashed into 
the air with a wild and angry shriek — this burst 
and left behind a fiash of fiame ; and again another 
darted forth and tore with fury through the branches 
of forest trees; and bomb after bomb sprang from 
the fiery mass, hissing and screaming like fiends 
in agony, and coursing in every direction through 
the forests and the clear heavens. Crash came after 
crash for many minutes; and again some great shell 
ex}Dloded under the waters, and threw far up a jet 
of the stream, to which, as it fell in drops and spray, 



CHEERING REPORTS. 247 

the light of the evening sun gave more than the 
splendor of ten thousand diamonds. 

Karely, I believe, has there been a spectacle of 
greater wonder and grandeur. Such was the mo- 
mentum of this train, that when it reached the chasm 
it sprang out fully forty feet, and the engine and first 
car leaped OA'er the first pier in the stream, and there 
hangs suspended one of the most impressive monu- 
ments of the Peninsular disasters. 

I spent most of this day at Savage Station. I 
wished to be near the great centre of intelligence, 
and learn, if possible, what was to be the fate of our 
army. During these anxious hours we were at one 
time comforted by the report that General Burnside 
had landed on James Elver with large reinforce- 
ments, and was then marching to our relief. But 
this, on reflection, was dismissed as fabulous ; and 
we turned again to look our real condition in the 
face. 

About three o'clock in the afternoon General 
Heintzleman, surrounded by the ofiicers of his stafi", 
mounted his horse. The ofiicers and soldiers who 
still lingered with their companions, now prepared 
to leave. And many a manly cheek was wet with 
tears as they bade farewell to those whom they never 
expected to meet again. Fathers had to drag them- 
selves away from the couches of their sons ; and 
after they had gone a few steps, would return to 
look once more, and to renew the oft-repeated in- 
structions to nurse and surgeon. There were many 
sad partings. Up to this time the disabled had not 
known that they were to be left behind ; and when 
it became manifest that such was to be their fate, 



248 DEVOTED NURSES. 

the scene could not be pictured by human language. 
Some wounded men, who were left in their tents, 
struggled through the grounds, exclaiming they 
''would rather die than fall into the hands of the 
Hebels." I heard one man crying out, "0 my God! 
is this the reward I deserve for all the sacrifices I 
have made, the battles I have fought, and the agony 
I have endured from my wounds." Some of the 
younger soldiers wept like children ; others turned 
pale, and some fainted. Poor fellows ! they thought 
this was the last drop in the cup of bittOTness, but 
there were yet many to be added. 

The surgeons who were on duty in the hospitals 
joined their regiments, and not more than one-third 
of those who had before been with us remained. The 
names of some of these are found in subsequent 
pages ; and it gives me great regret that I have not 
the names of all those who remained, thereby incur- 
ring all the suiierings and losses of captivity. 

More than one-half of the nurses left us and joined 
the long procession of sick and wounded, which was 
greatly increased by the straggling mass of men 
who had lost their regiments. Some nurses who 
might have gone remained with the sick and 
wounded, to endure privation, want, and incessant 
toil. I wish I had their names. I would invite all 
the towns and villages of which they are citizens 
to honor them as deserving more than a wreath of 
laurel. 

About four o'clock we saw moving over the jDlain 
opposite to us the last of the ambulances and wagons, 
retiring in the distance, and the light of the evening 
sun was reflected in dazzling brilliance from the 



THE REAR-GUARD. 249 

guns of the departing regiments. Here and there 
was a horseman galloping through the the dust ; but 
the great throng of dashing officers, of plumed cav- 
alry, of regiments with waving banners and music, 
had passed away like the dream of a brilliant tour- 
nament. "We were not, however, yet quite aban- 
doned. Opposite to Savage Station, looking north, 
is a large plain of several hundred acres. On the 
furthest line of this is the Williamsburg road, and 
beyond is a dark pine forest. The field gradually 
ascends from the station to the road. On this field 
were standing in line of battle 20,000 men under 
General Sumner, the rear-guard of the army, left to 
hold in check the enemy until our troops were safe 
beyond "White Oak Swamp. 

General Sumner commanded his own corps and 
part of Heintzleman's and Franklin's. For hours 
they stood in this open field, waiting the approach 
of the enemy — thousands of them still and motion- 
less as statues. ISTow and then a soldier would start 
out of the dark line and come down to the station 
for water, bearing his own and his comrades' can- 
teens. And when he returned all were as silent and 
motionless as before. Seldom have I seen anything 
in my life more impressive and morally grand than 
that presented by this rear-guard of the army. Reg- 
iment after regiment, and division after division, 
filed by them, — long trains of wagons and ambu- 
lances passed through the ranks, but they moved 
not. All faces amongst them wore the expression 
of heroic sacrifice. The fate of the army was in 
their hands, and they were determined it should be 
saved; and there was no flinching when they were 



250 AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 

left alone without supports and reserves. Keverwas 
there assembled a nobler body of men, and rarely 
was there a sublimer spectacle. 

About ^ve o'clock, p. m., we saw rising up in the 
field towards the Chickahominy a great cloud of 
dust. Very soon afterwards there burst upon us the 
thunder of artillery, and from the upper rooms of 
the Savage House we could see the approaching col- 
umns of the enemy. 

The first balls discharged from the enemy's guns 
fell amongst our wounded men, and the pains of one 
poor sufferer were at an end. Dr. Swinburne im- 
mediately sent forth a flag of truce, saying that the 
house was an hospital, and the grounds around it were 
crowded with wounded men. General Jackson ex- 
pressed his regret, and had the direction of his guns 
changed. Then commenced a magnificent artillery 
duel. Shell met shell in the heavens from the con- 
tending cannon, and battery responded to battery, 
until it was one continued and unceasing roar of the 
mightiest thunder. For an hour not a musket was 
fired, — the lines of the army remained motionless. 
Suddenly the whole mass of the enemy's forces 
sprang forward with wild yells and screams like 
Camanche Indians, and hurried past us into the open 
field in front of our troops. At this moment it ap- 
peared to me I could see long streams of fire, like 
serpents' tongues, dart from our many thousand mus- 
kets, and louder than the roar swelled up the shout 
of defiance. Beaten back by this leaden storm, the 
enemy wavered and retreated a few steps to the rail- 
road. But soon after troops coming up behind them, 
pressed the front line once more into the field. 



BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION. 251 

Again there leaped from ten thousand guns the fiery 
blast, and yell answered yell. ]N"ow the whole field 
was so covered with the pall of battle we could see 
nothing but the vivid flash from the cannon, like 
the lightning darting out of a cloud, and the mus- 
kets in the hands of our men pointed towards us, 
still vomiting forth streams of flame. For a moment 
there would be a pause, a lull in the battle, to be 
succeeded by the instantaneous discharge of ^ye 
thousand guns ; and then, as if the contending hosts 
had been stung to frenzy, the rage of the contest 
was redoubled. The clash of arms was occasionally 
interrupted by the coming into the field of fresh reg- 
iments, cheering their companions with loud shouts. 
The dullest ear could perceive the difference between 
the voices of our men and those of the enemy. Ours 
shouted in clear, ringing, and manly tones, while the 
enemy's sounded like the scream of the panther and 
the yell of the savage. 

At one time in the conflict there was the simul- 
taneous discharge of two thousand muskets, as if 
men had fired in each other's faces. It was a moment 
I shall never forget ; the thought of the crushing, 
the piercing, and the agony ; the life-blood gushing 
out; the strong arm palsied, and the bright eye 
darkened forever; the many souls appearing the 
same instant before Ood, — all brought to the heart 
overwhelming emotions, as if in a moment I had 
lived years. This I afterwards learned was occasioned 
by two regiments, the 5th Vermont and the 11th 
Alabama, finding themselves within ten feet of each 
other. In the cloud of battle and shades of the 
evening, neither were certain of the character of the 



252 BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION. 

other: both withheld their fire. Some of the offi- 
cers of the Vermonters were anxious to fire and 
charge, but the colonel could not give an order that 
midit be fatal to friends and brothers. He there- 
fore advanced in front of his regiment, and called 
out aloudj ""What regiment is that?" 

For a moment there was no reply; when there 
was the response, "Wliat regiment is yours?" 

"The 5th Vermont." 

"Then," cried the Rebel commander, "in God's 
name take it, fire!" — and the men, looking into 
each other's eyes, placed their guns against each 
other's bosoms and fired. How many of the enemy 
fell I know not, but I understood two hundred of 
the brave Vermonters were left on the field. Some 
of these I afterwards saw, and from them received 
this account. The battle continued to rage mth 
unabated fury until about half past eight o'clock ; 
then the firing gradually slackened, the cannon of 
the enemy ceased to reply to ours, and the discharges 
of musketry from their side became more and more 
distant, and at random. I^ow and then the battle 
would for five or ten minutes burst out afresh, some 
portion of the Confederates retiring from the field 
would wander near our lines, be attacked, turn on 
us and rally for a moment, and then ■Q.ee. At nine 
o'clock they were all gone, and not a sound arose 
from the field and forests but the groans of the dying, 
and the calls for help. This was one of the most 
desperate conflicts of the Peninsula. 

The force of the enemy must have been far greater 
than ours, for I learned from their officers that fully 
fifty thousand men were dashed on our rear-guard 



BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION. 253 

But nobly and grandly were they repulsed ; and when 
the final cheer of victory arose from our columns, 
and regiments in forest, rifle-pit, and field answered 
each other, and the great shout of triumph could be 
heard for miles, there was not a solitary derisive cry 
in answer. The victory was complete ; well did our 
rear-guard fulfil their trust, and hurl back the forces 
which were pressing from behind to throw us into 
confusion, and secure the capture and destruction 
of a large part of our army. The repulse of that 
evening enabled our columns and baggage trains to 
place between us and the enemy the difficult and, 
in most places, impassable slough, White Oak Swamp. 
The retreat under such circumstances, in the presence 
of two armies, each of equal strength with our own, 
was most hazardous. We had for our vast wagon 
and ambulance trains, and parks of artillery, but one 
road ; and along this narrow passage-way, thus en- 
cumbered, our entire army had to retire, and if our 
rear had been defeated and pressed by an active 
enemy, the result must have been fatal to thousands. 

But to General Sumner and the gallant men whom 
he commanded is the gratitude due of holding in 
check an enemy double our strength. 

The anxiety which he felt during the progress of 
the battle can never be told. During the early part 
of the engagement we could see clearly the move- 
ments of the troops in that portion of the battle 
fought in the open field ; but as the cloud became 
dark and night came on, we could see nothing but 
the blaze of musketry and the fiery burst of cannon. 
But still we felt certain that our men held their own, 
for there was no change in their positions, and we 

99 



254 GENERAL BURNS. 

could hear distinctly the commands of our officers. 
But 'as the strife thickened, and^the thunder became 
more appalling, all hearts stood still: the devout 
prayed, the timid wept and hid themselves, the 
pulses of the wildest excitement bounded in the 
veins of the true soldiers ; and great was our relief 
when it became certain that our forlorn hope had 
sustained itself and beaten back the foe. 

From some of the officers of our army who were 
in the columns marching towards White Oak Swamp, 
I have heard that the roar of battle as it came from 
the rear was majestic. The night was unusually calm, 
not a breath of air stirred the trees, and all nature 
around them was asleep ; but from one spot came 
the sound of the most terrible tumult, as if, while 
the whole world slept, on one point had been let 
loose all the elements of destruction and terror. A 
dark cloud rolled up in the heavens, angry flashes 
of light darted over its face, the earth trembled, and 
there came out of the bosom of the forest the voices 
of the most terrible tempest. 

I heard it stated at the time, amongst the inci- 
dents of this battle, that the enemy had driven 
column after column, after his usual manner, to 
break our centre. Here was General Burns, with 
clothes and hat pierced, and face covered ^vith blood : 
— the general still rallied and cheered his men. At 
length two companies, concluding that all would be 
killed who remained there, commenced deliberately 
marching off the field. General Burns expostulated, 
entreated, commanded them, all in vain. At length, 
taking off his torn hat and throwing it down, he 
besought them not to disgrace themselves and their 



DISGRACEFUL RETREAT. 255 

general. This last appeal was successful, tliey re- 
turned and fought more desperately to wipe out the 
cowardice of a moment. 

!N'ever was there a more impressive spectacle than 
that presented by this retreat of the " Grand Army." 
This vast body of men, well trained, fully equipped, 
and equalling in courage any army which the world 
has ever seen, eager for the fight, asking but for 
generals to lead them on to victory, was, after having 
almost knocked at the door of the Rebel stronghold, 
retreating in haste — at the command of one man — 
who, however distinguished for ability in one depart- 
ment of military science, in every hour of danger was 
a child, and in every great emergency was oppressed 
with conscious incapacity. After the enemy was re- 
pulsed at the battle of "Savage Station," General 
Sumner sent to General McClellan for, as he ex- 
pressed himself, " orders to push the enemy into the 
Chickahominy." General McClellan's reply was, that 
"the rear-guard would follow the retreat of the main 
body of the army." On the reception of this com- 
mand, the greatest consternation and displeasure 
reigned among both officers and men. Many openly 
rebelled — they wished to sacrifice themselves in any 
way, rather than by a disgraceful retreat. But at 
length order reigned, and the rear-guard took up their 
line of march, slowly toiling through mud and marshy 
plains, and the grey light of dawn found them safe 
beyond the White Oak Swamp. Many most in- 
teresting incidents occurred during this forced march. 
I have heard of the lady and little child, an infant 
of but a few months, whose smiles shed a radiance 
upon all around them ; and the tired soldiers were 



256 EX-GOVERNOR WOOD. 

nerved to fresh endurance of tlie Aveary marcli by 
the presence of these delicate ones, who shared their 
hardships and fatigue. They were the wife and child 
of General Richardson, of Michigan — a brave and 
noble officer — who afterwards died of wounds re- 
ceived at the battle of Antietam. His wife had spent 
much time in camp with him, and was looked upon 
as a good angel by the soldiers who had been favored 
with her gentle ministrations. Ex-Governor "Wood, 
of Illinois, was present on this occasion, and though 
only a civilian, greatly assisted the officers by his 
counsel and cheering advice. Many times when the 
long train of wagons seemed hoplessly locked, did 
he, by a word fitly spoken, untie the Gordian knot, 
and set them once more in motion. At other times 
his venerable form, with snowy beard and hair, could 
be seen riding through the ranks, encouraging the 
faint-hearted, and shaming the cowardly by sharing 
all their dangers and privations ; and such was his 
influence, that, under his eye, none complained, but 
marched solemnly on, grimly determining to wipe 
out this disgrace by future victories. 

During the night General Sumner withdrew his 
batteries and troops unmolested, and before the 
enemy was apprised of it, was five miles on the 
way to James River. 

I have never seen any official report of our losses 
in this battle, but I heard that General Sedgwick 
lost in his division six hundred men. He occupied 
the most dangerous and fatal part of the field. I 
presume our killed and wounded were not less than 
one thousand. Most of the last were gathered up 
by ambulances, and brought into Savage Station, 



GENERAL SUMNER. 257 

but numbers were found on Monday and Tuesday 
by the enemy, and sent to Riclimond. 

It may not be inappropriate to say here that no 
small part of the praise for tlie successful retreat of 
our army is due to General Sumner. Like an iron 
wall lie breasted tbe foe at Savage Station, w^lien lie 
stood between tbe enemy, flushed with victory and 
confident in our continuous defeat, and our exhausted 
and desponding army. Again, on the next day, at 
Glendale, he infused his invincible courage into all 
his command. The disposition of the troops at the 
battle of Malvern Hill was known to have been 
made by him; and, in the absence of General 
McClellan, General Sumner, during most of that 
memorable day, commanded the army. The en- 
ergy infused into every corps and company, and the 
bold confidence which sprang up in the bosoms oi 
worn, exhausted, hopeless men, displayed the pre- 
sence and power of a master spirit. 



22* 



258 MORNING AFTER THE BATTLE. 



CHAPTER XYII. 

Monday Morning, June SOth. 

Silence of the Morning after the Battle — The Rebel Soldier 
reconnoitring — The Surrender of the Hospitals — Refusal of 
German Marines to surrender — German Soldier at Meadow 
Station — Peril of Chaplain Sloan — Conversation with a Con- 
federate Officer, Captain Taylor, of New Kent. 

Immediately after the close of the battle of the 
previous evening, a violent thunder-storm had come 
up ; and so suddenly did this burst upon us, that 
for a time we thought it was a renewal of the bat- 
tle. This served to purify the air, and was refresh- 
ing to the wounded lying on the field. 

The morning came to us cloudless and calm. Very 
early I went forth to discover the actual condition 
of things. I advanced to the highest point in the 
field, and looked down on the main road, the rail- 
road, and a dark pine forest. There was no sign of 
the presence of the enemy. Our army had disap- 
peared ; and in field and forest, where a few hours 
before had been a most terrific tumult, and the 
voices of thousands shouting in defiance or triumph, 
not a sound came forth, not a soldier moved along 
the roads ; the tents were silent, and the fields de- 
serted. The scene reminded me of the sublime 
vision of the prophet : " I beheld, and lo ! there was 



REBELS RECONNOITRING. 259 

no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled ; 
I beheld, and lo ! the fruitful place was a mlderness, 
and all the cities were broken down." 

"While I was asking myself, "Who shall next ap- 
pear on this stage?" I perceived an object that in- 
stantly fixed all my attention ; this was a Rebel soldier 
about forty rods from me, creeping along towards 
the railroad ; very fortunately he did not see me. I 
was standing in the open field ; he was crouching 
under the branches of the trees, and after the man- 
ner of a scout, was creeping from point to point, 
then stopping and minutely surveying the scene. I 
followed his example, and with a step of furry soft- 
ness hastened to a neighboring fence, and there 
watched him ; and from this point of concealment, 
I observed his movements with the deepest interest. 
After disappearing, and again appearing, he was 
finally lost to my eye. I hastened back to the hos- 
pital, fully assured that we would know the fate 
reserved for us in a few moments. I had the nurses 
aroused, breakfast served, the rooms cleansed, and 
the house put in order, for I knew not but that Cap- 
tain Carter might be one of our visitors. 

About seven a. m. we saw in the distance a troop 
of cavalry. They had come out of the forest ; and 
on seeing our house were halted for orders; their 
swords were drawn, and with a wild dash, leaping 
ravines and fences, they rode up to our gate. 

As soon as we saw them in the distance, I had all 
the men called to come within the house : this com- 
mand was obeyed before given. 

When the cavalry drew up at the gate, tlie ofiicer 
in command shouted aloud : 



260 SURRENDER OF THE HOSPITAL. 

^'Who is in command here?" 

I was standing on the portico, and stepped out 
and answered, "I am in command." 

"You are a surgeon, are you not?" 

'''No, captain, I am a chaplain, but in command of 
this hospital and the one at Meadow Station." 

"Ah," said he, " and how many men have you ? " 

"At both places, about two hundred and thirty," 
I replied. 

"Are any of them able to travel ? " 

"]^ot one ; all such left us yesterday." 

" Have you any personal property here ? for all you 
have shall be respected. Is that your horse ? " 

"Yes, sir, and the pony." 

"Well, they shall not be disturbed, and nothing 
that you have shall be taken ; but all the arms and 
the clothing of the officers who have left are ours, 
of course." 

He then alighted, came into the house, spoke very 
kindly to the men, and went from room to room, 
assuring the sick that they had no reason to fear ; 
they should be well treated. But such was the agi- 
tation produced in some cases of extreme nervous 
debility, that I was apprehensive of the worst re- 
sults. One young man was with great difficulty 
revived from the shock. 

In a few moments the dragoons were seated around 
the table in the background, chatting in the live- 
liest way, drinking coffee, and eating such food as 
we could provide. They were loud in their praises 
of Jackson, and spoke in the highest terms of his 
bravery and piety ; they recounted the brilliant feats 
performed by them in the last few days ; and al/ 



A NOBLE TEXAN. 261 

united in assuring us that our entire army was bag- 
ged ; tliat Jackson, Longstreet, and tlie Hills were 
in our rear and left flank, Magruder and Huger in 
front and on our riglit flank, and that escape was 
impossible ; that they expected to have to fight an- 
other battle, and then the Grand Army of the Poto- 
mac would live only in history and song. 

In answer to my inquiries, they assured me that 
the force under Jackson was about 35,000, and that 
40,000 troops had arrived in Richmond within a few 
days from the army of Beauregard ; and that they 
supposed their entire force was 150,000. They ex- 
pressed great surprise when I told them that our 
army had not more than 70,000 effective men ; and 
that Porter's corps, 35,000 strong, had in the first 
day's engagement defeated and driven back 60,000, 
and in the second day's fight had been overpowered 
by double their numbers. 

They predicted a speedy peace, but most solemnly 
affirmed that a return to the old Union was, under 
any circumstances, impossible, "^o," said they, 
" if you were to get down on your knees to us we 
would not come back." The leader of this band 
was a Texan, and evidently a kind, generous-hearted 
man. I subsequently saw him in Richmond, where 
he alighted from his horse, and came a considerable 
distance to shake hands, and to inquire if he could 
aid me in any way. Before he left, he gave me a 
paper, authorizing me to exercise full authority in 
the hospital, to retain all the stores on hand, and 
commanding all officers and soldiers of the Confed- 
erate army to respect these orders ; and for our pro- 



262 IGNORANT REBELS. 

tection lie left a sergeant of tlie 16tli Mississippi, of 
the name of Houeb. 

After they left us small numbers of soldiers came 
to the hospital several times, asking for bread or 
water ; they were humble and polite, requesting per- 
mission even to enter the kitchen. I found from 
conversation with many of these that more than 
two-thirds of them could not read ; they were very 
ignorant and very dirty; some clothed in a light, 
linsey-woolsey grey, and others in butternut brown. 
As a general thing they knew nothing of the causes 
of the war, but supposed they were called to re- 
pel us from going South, taking their negroes, 
and giving all the lands of their country to the 
slaves. They acknowledged that our troops were 
very different from what they had anticipated ; they 
found them far braver than they had been led to be- 
lieve. "Some of your men," said they, "fought 
like tigers, and when defeated did not run, but 
turned at bay, and fought as men who had made up 
their minds to die. We knew that the Illinois and 
Indiana troops were desperate fellows, and could 
generally beat us, for they are stronger men than 
ours, but we had not expected such hard play from 
the Yankees." Then they talked for two hours, and 
were perfectly at home with us. 

After they had gone I took the guard who had 
been left for our protection, and walked over to 
Meadow Station. Here again I found that the shock 
arising from the presence of the enemy had seriously 
imperilled the lives of some who were in a fair way 
of recovery. Seated amongst the sick soldiers on 
the porch under the shadow of the trees were many 



BRAVE MARINES. 263 

of the Confederates, engaged in animated discnssiona, 
and each magnifying his exploits. 

While here I learned that twenty marines, mostly 
Germans, had that morning come up along the rail- 
road from helow the "White House, determined to 
find out what had become of our army. They had 
by some means passed through the enemy's lines, 
and on reaching Meadow Station stated that on the 
way they had not seen a soldier, but when they came 
to the station they met several Confederates. They 
refused to surrender, drew their pistols and cutlasses, 
turned back and deliberately walked down the rail 
track. "What became of these brave men I could 
not learn, but supposed they reached their vessel in 
safety, for I never heard of their being taken pris- 
oners. 

I can never forget the pluck of a German soldier 
whom I found lying on the porch of the depot, very 
sick. I spoke to him and felt his pulse. He had been 
brought in that morning from some one of the de- 
serted camps, and did not know me. To my ques- 
tions he was indisposed to answer. I brought him 
some medicine and wine, and when I told the nurse 
to lift him up and administer the restorative, the 
German shook his head and turned away his face, 
and said, most decidedly, ''!N"o good, no good; I'se 
no take your medicine ; you the enemy of my coun- 
try, and shot my broders : no take your medicine." 

I saw in a moment he took me for a Eebel sur- 
geon. I took off my hat, showed him the U. S. on 
the front, and told him I was his friend and brother. 

He looked intently into my face, and exclaimed : 
" Tank Gott : I takes him, doctor, I takes him all." 



264 THE CONFEDERATE GUARD. 

I then and in all my subsequent visits looked upon 
this man with the deepest respect, for he was a sol- 
dier from principle, and loved the right more than 
life. The noble fellow improved. I afterwards saw 
him in Richmond, and hope he still lives. 

This was a day of the deepest anxiety and gloom. 
Every Confederate officer and soldier whom we met 
said that General McClellan was perfectly entrapped 
in the swamps and surrounded by his enemies ; his 
escape was impossible. They were smiling and joy- 
ous, and told us the war was over. The ISTorth could 
never raise another army, and after the capitulation 
of this we w^ould see the perfect folly of attempting 
to subdue the South. At Savage Station I found 
that all our officers and surgeons were despondent 
and nearly hopeless in regard to the escape of our 
forces : all they could hear was from officers on the 
other side. 

There had been left with us 200 or 300 Confeder- 
ate soldiers as a guard. They were not cruel or in- 
ulting, and were very soon on the best of terms 
with the Yankees. There was between them and 
our men a most striking contrast. They were in 
complexion as dark as Asiatics ; sallow, with long 
black hair hanging over their shoulders, and without 
any nervous restlessness; but the moment they were 
off duty sinking into oriental languor; ''the sweet 
doing of nothing" was the highest enjoyment. Even 
if a knot of them played cards, it was indolently 
and carelessly done ; and often their English was an 
African patois, and needed an interpreter. But our 
men were restless, and even when on duty trod the 
ground with impatience, gathering into bands for 



CAPTAIN TAYLOR. 265 

smoking, discussing questions, cooking, digging up 
roots, and running from one part of the grounds to an- 
other to see every new arrival. This endless tumult, 
bustle, and hurry, but, above all, the ten thousand 
questions asked, distressed and annoyed the stagnant 
Southerners, and they would often beg the Yankees 
to take themselves off and let them rest. 

During the afternoon we were at work removing 
the stores of provisions from the railroad track to 
the hospital. I had all the nurses engaged in bear- 
ing these across the fields on their backs and on 
stretchers, and in various ways we were securing 
what had been spared for us. 

During one of these trips we observed a company 
of horsemen riding swiftly towards us. "When they 
approached within fifty yards of us, I saw the ;5^oung 
men around the captain throw the strap of their car- 
bines over their shoulders, placing their guns over 
the pommel of their saddles, cock them, and mov- 
ing slowly they drew near. I thought the action 
was strange and threatening, and commanded the 
m.en to drop their loads and sit down on the grass. 
I advanced in front. When the captain came within 
ten paces of us, I saw him turn and wave his hand to 
his followers. They uncocked their pieces, threw the 
strap over the neck, and came up to us. 

The leader bowed, and introduced himself as Cap- 
tain Taylor, of jN'ew Kent, and the commander of a 
company in the celebrated Stuart cavalry. He was 
much of a gentleman, asked me when we were taken 
prisoners ? how we were treated ? how many sick we 
had? After he had satisfied himself, he asked me 
if I was not a chaplain ? I replied that I was. 
23 



266 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 

^'I tliouglit SO," said he. "Do you know Chaplain 
Sloan?" 

I told him I did not. (I subsequently saw Mr. 
Sloan at Harrison's Landing.) 

" Mr. Sloan," said he, " once preached for us at ISTew 
Kent ; we thought a great deal of him. My mother 
and myself and wife were members of his church. 
These young men," said he, "were all students in the 
classical school he superintended at 'New Kent. He 
was a very valuable and useful man amongst us. At 
the commencement of the war he left us and went, 
as we understood, to Philadelphia. But we after- 
wards heard that he had become a chaplain in your 
army, and we all took a solemn vow that wherever 
we should meet him we would shoot him ; and when 
we first saw you we supposed that you were Mr. 
Sloan, and you may have observed the young men 
cocking their guns ; this was whefn we took you for 
him. And now," said he, "I am very glad that you 
are not Mr. Sloan, for it would have troubled me all 
my life to have shot him." I told him my pleasure 
at not being Mr. Sloan was fully equal to his in not 
finding him. 

He then went on conversing, with the manner of 
one who had thrown a mighty load ofi" his soul. He 
evidently did not relish the thought of being the 
murderer of Mr. Sloan, and sincerely hoped that he 
might never come in their way. He then told me 
that he had left his family, mother, wife, and chil- 
dren, at New Kent; and the families of most of the 
men about him were in that same neighborhood, 
and that their anxiety had been intense when our 
army advanced to I^ew Kent. "But," said he, "we 



CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 267 

have been fifteen times in your rear, and know all 
that was done by your troops ; and to your credit, I 
must say that your men behaved well. They did not 
rob the families nor molest them, and I have not 
heard of a single case of violence. We have heard, 
indeed, of your taking pigs, turkeys, and chickens ; 
this is what is to be looked for in an army ; but we 
have not heard of a single case of violence or insult 
to families ; that speaks loudly for the discipline of 
your army." 

I told him ''I thanked him for that drop of com- 
fort. I knew that the officers aimed to restrain the 
troops, but sometimes men broke over all discipline." 

"Your men," said he, "behave well, but don't 
fight like our ixien." 

"Pray, captain," said I, " where did your men show 
an}^ superiority to ours ? " 

"Why, I think, in every battle yet fought, and 
nowhere more than at Williamsburg. We fought 
you with our rear-guard ; we had no expectation of 
being able to do more than hold you in check until 
the main body of our forces were out of harm's way. 
But when your generals were so easily checked, this 
emboldened us to hurry back reinforcements, and 
attempt greater things ; and I do believe that if we 
had resolved to make a final stand at Williamsburg, 
we could have bound you there another month, and 
then the heat and fever would have finished the work 
we began." 

" Captain," I replied, "you know that the battle 
of Williamsburg was mainly fought by one division. 
General Hooker's. Generals Kearney and Hancock 
-rendered very essential aid, but it was almost night 



268 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 

when they reached the field. We had not so many 
men in that battle as you had, and yours were all 
the advantages of position, intrenchments, and strong 
earthworks, and we had to debouch into the fields 
in your front, over a narrow neck of land. You 
had every advantage that men should ask ; the storm 
was drenching and disheartening ; our artillery was 
engulfed in the mud ; yet, notwithstanding all these 
things. General Hooker, with the aid of three or 
four regiments of General Kearney's, held his posi- 
tion for five hours, until, by a flank movement of 
General Hancock, you were driven from the field. 
In the strength of your intrenchments, you ought to 
have held out against fifty thousand men." 

"Well," said he, ''we have thought that one of 
our men was equal to four of yours : that may have 
been slightly too large ; do you not think, in all hon- 
esty, doctor, that our men are greatly suiDerior to 
yours in military qualities ? " 

"'No,'' said I, "our men are fully equal to yours, 
and in many respects superior. We are cooler, will 
endure more, suffer greater hardships, and fight 
more unflinchingly than yours." 

"Well," said he, smiling, "you have never shown 
those qualities yet ; but I hope, for the honor of the 
American name, you may in the future. We have 
had several battles on the Peninsula : in which of 
these do you think you were victorious?" 

" Were you at Savage Station last night, captain, 
in the battle?" 

" No, we were on the left. But what of it ? " 

" Why, simply this : that you were most thor- 
oughly whipped, and if you had been there at the 



CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 269 

conclusion of the firing, you would liave seen our 
columns standing where they did at the commence- 
ment of the fight ; and of your men, there was not 
one in the open fields, and all your artillery was re- 
moved or silenced." 

"And how many men do you suppose General 
Jackson brought into action ? " 

" I do not know, certainly, but suppose from forty 
to fifty thousand. — Well, sir, we had but twenty 
thousand, all told ; and men who have been under 
arms for twenty-five days, who, during all this time, 
were enduring the severest toil and exhausting 
duties, and yet they repulsed twice their number of 
fresh troops ; and in the engagement of last night 
your men pursued their usual tactics : they crept 
into ravines, hid behind fences, and skulked like 
Indians into forests. I^o, captain, you have asked 
my opinion, and I have given it to you. Your men, 
as a general thing, are not equal to ours." 

He laughed, and said: "Doctor, I have provoked 
this ; we will not be likely to agree, but I don't 
think less of you for answering and defending your 
soldiers with spirit. But do you not think that 
your cause is fatally defeated, and the independence 
of the South certain ? We have just come up from 
the left of your army ; we consider the escape of 
General McClellan hopeless. We have seventy 
thousand in your rear, and fully as many in front; 
and entangled in the forest and swamp, how can you 
escape ? It was understood when we left that Gen- 
eral McClellan had sent an aid to General Lee, to 
arrange the surrender of his entire army." 

"You may believe it, but I will not; if twenty 
23* 



270 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 

thousand men could beat back your army last night, 
I feel sure tliat seventy thousand will do more than 
that to-day." 

"Well," said he, "there are some things which 
even brave men cannot do ; you cannot drag your 
cannon through swamps ; you cannot move your 
trains through forests so deep and dark that the 
light of the sun never reaches the earth ; you cannot 
bridge rivers in the face of a powerful and victorious 
enemy ; we know all this country well, and I assure 
you the escape of your army is impossible." 

" "Well, captain, you will find that when you press 
such men as ours to the wall, they will defend them- 
selves with a desperation which will end in your de- 
feat. Even now, the roar of the battle is the proof 
that we still have an army." 

In the meantime the men on both sides had be- 
come quite familiar, and were fully exchanging 
views. The captain bade me good-bye, and hoped 
we might meet in better times. 



MARCH OF THE ARMY. 271 



CHAPTEE XVIII. 

Monday, June 30^A. 

March of the Army from Savage Station — Guns left behind — 
Frequent halts for return of Scouts — Movements of the Enemy 

— Crossing White Oak Swamp — Uncertainty of every Step 

— The relief — Night firing — Position of our Army on Mon- 
day — Battle of White Oak Swamp — Exciting Scenes. 

I HAVE before mentioned that General McClellan 
left Savage Station on Sunday morning, June 29tli. 
Most fortunately for us, up to this time the Confed- 
erates were under the impression that General Mc- 
Clellan would most certainly retreat by the way of 
the Pamunky, and retire towards Yorktown ; and in 
order to prevent this they sent strong bodies of 
troops to the north side of the Chickahominy, and 
did not become aware of our real purpose until noon 
of Sabbath. 

The march of our army was of necessity slow. 
We had an enormous train of more than five thou- 
sand wagons, and but one narrow road. The woods 
on both sides were swarming with enemies. There 
was entire uncertainty in regard to everything be- 
fore us ; our foes might be massed in force beyond 
the White Oak Swamp. The roads had, therefore, 
to be carefully felt, and scouts were sent in advance, 
and who as they returned and reported that to a cer- 



272 THIRD PENNSYLVANIA CAVALRY. 

tain distance tlie way was clear, the order was then 
given for the advance of a mile or less. In this way 
the army slowly moved on, until it disappeared from 
the cultivated fields and was buried in the wilder- 
ness ; and all our artilleiy and guns were saved but 
one siege piece, of which the carriage broke, and 
the gun had to be abandoned. 

Before night came on there was felt by all the 
general ofiicers the most profound uneasiness. The 
crash and thunder of battle in the rear ; the roar of 
cannon and report of musketry in our front; the near 
presence of thousands of concealed foes on both 
flanks, made this one of the most painfully oppres- 
sive hours in the history of the campaign. 

At one moment there was a wide-felt apprehen- 
sion. When the enemy discovered that we had re- 
tired from our intrenchments and outposts, they 
sprang on the track of the army with all the fury of 
wild beasts seeking their prey; and their screams 
were calculated to carry terror to the stoutest hearts. 
Our army halted, and threw itself into the line of 
battle. A section of artillery was sent back by Gen- 
eral Keyes, with a detachment of infantry and the 
3d Pennsylvania cavalry, under General Averill. 
The enemy advanced boldly to take the battery, not 
seeing the horsemen who were concealed in the for- 
est. General Averill charged on them, and in a few 
moments their entire force was in full retreat. They 
were driven back three miles, and thus our rear re- 
giments were relieved from the annoyance and gall- 
ing fire of our pursuers. 

Before night the army passed White Oak Swamp, 
and placed that barrier between us and the enemy ; 



A NIGHT MARCH. 273 

and after dark courier after courier anived at the 
head-quarters of General McClellan, with the wel- 
come tidings that General Sumner was holding his 
own, and the victory of the night was complete ; and 
very soon another came in announcing the glad intel- 
ligence that Generals Porter and Keyes had reached 
the James Eiver, and estahlished communication 
with our men-of-war. 

It was now thought, as the enemy had not met us 
in front, that it was very improbable they would at- 
tempt to pursue us over the swamp. 

General Kearney crossed the swamp one mile 
higher up than the usual road, at Brackett's Ford, 
and about sundown had secured all his trains and 
artillery; and after advancing in security a short 
distance his scouts fell upon the enemy's pickets, and 
there commenced a very brisk firing in the woods 
in front. The reconnoissance made it certain that 
the Confederate forces were near us, and that an 
attempt to advance along that road would be hotly 
contested, and might bring on a general engage- 
ment. General Kearney drew up his men in the 
order of battle until after night, and then in the 
darkness sought to join the other divisions of the 
army. I have often heard the men and officers of 
the army speak of that night's march in the gloomy 
forest, where nothing could be seen but the flash 
of the fire-fly. The uncertainty of the way, the near 
presence of the enemy, the thunder of the battle not 
far from them, made this a night long to be remem- 
bered ; and the most thoughtless were oppressed with 
sad anticipations of to-morrow. Many have told me 



274 CROSSING THE SWAMP. 

that they abandoned all hope of escape, but deter- 
mined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. 

Monday arose on the army with no enemy in sight. 
General Sumner crossed the swamp about 9 A. M.^ 
bringing all his guns with him (and in all this cam- 
paign he never lost a gun or a color), and in less than 
an hour Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, with their 
forces, could be seen on the hills to the north and 
west of the swamp, and were preparing to cross in 
force. 

Here there was a brisk cannonading which lasted 
for several hours, until our artillery was withdrawn 
from the position and concentrated on the roads from 
which we had every reason to fear a flank move- 
ment. 

To guard against the success of such a demonstra- 
tion, strong bodies of our troops were massed at im- 
portant points on the several roads. On those lead- 
ing from Richmond General Heintzleman, with the 
divisions of Generals Hooker, Kearney, Sedgwick, 
and McCall, were placed. Our trains and the ad- 
vancing troops were to pass over the road to Turkey 
Bend or Malvern Hill, called Quaker Road. This 
road cuts at right angles the various highways run- 
ning from Richmond east, and therefore is the great 
highway to James River from Savage Station. Along 
this road all the artillery troops and wagons of the 
army had to pass. It was the plan of the enemy, 
as soon as they discovered the course we were 
taking, to cut in twain our army and to drive back 
and capture such portion as could be severed from 
the main body. 

Franklin and Sumner held the rear, Slocum was 



POSITION OF THE TROOPS. 275 

on the left, and Heintzleman on the right. Hooker 
occupied a position on the Quaker Road, to his 
right McCall, and again Kearney the extreme right. 
Those various divisions were thrown into these 
positions to protect our army, seeking its new hase, 
and to repel the efforts of the enemy to break 
through our lines — a catastrophe which would have 
been fatal to all that portion thus cut off from the 
main trunk. 

Thus, to break through our advancing troops, to 
capture part of our baggage trains and a portion of 
the army, was the purpose of Generals Lee and Ma- 
gruder ; and this was prevented by the valor of the 
men to whom the great trust of that day was com- 
mitted. 

To those divisions of our army thus massed on 
the roads, no battle on the Peninsula was so severe 
and the loss so great. 

The country in which the struggle of Monday oc- 
curred is heavily wooded, the forests being either 
ragged thickets of oak saplings, vines, and thorns, 
or heavy, dark pine woods. The land is nearly a 
dead level, with only an occasional swell or break 
on a creek : the general aspect of the country is ex- 
tremely monotonous and uninviting. Here and there 
a farm to the right and left of the road gave a spot 
of sunshine and brightness ; but all around this arise, 
almost as clearly defined as a great dark wall, the 
lofty firs and hemlocks. Our troops were arranged 
on a line of these farms extending for three or four 
miles, placing, if possible, an open field in front of 
them, thus compelling the enemy, in the attack, to 
come out of his usual forest haunts. 



276 THE PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES. 

Heavy cannonading in the rear had been heard 
bj the infantiy of our army, but the near presence 
of the enemy was not known until ten o'clock P.M., 
when an overwhelming force burst out of the forest 
in front of General McCall's division. This was 
composed of twelve Pennsylvania regiments, and 
they were amongst the best troops in the army, 
as proved in many a field before and since ; but 
they had been in the battles of Gainesville and 
Mechanicsville, and had suffered most severely in 
both of those engagements. Of one regiment, the 
12th, but few escaped. 

This division was thrown across the I^ew Market 
road, two regiments being on the right and the 
others on the left, having open fields in front of 
them. 

At the first commencement of the attack some 
confusion was created by the officers and men of the 
"Dutch Battery" cutting the horses from the guns, 
and posting, pell-mell, through the lines of the 
troops. This had the effect to increase the confi- 
dence of the enemy and the fury of his attack. 

I have seen it stated that the entire body of the 
Reserves, very early in the battle, were thrown into 
confusion, routed, and fled, a disorganized mass, 
through the other troops. But this cannot be the 
truth in regard to most of those regiments, for the 
number of their dead and wounded lying in these 
fields and subsequently found in the hospitals, was 
proof of the severity of the contest to them. The field, 
as I afterwards passed over it, was strewn with their 
dead, and there were all the signs to a practised eye 
of a long-continued and desperate conflict. It was 



THE PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES. 277 

very evident that they stood at the point of extremest 
danger, and that they had to endure, in the commence- 
ment of the action, the entire force of the enemy, 
and repelled charge after charge. I have heard offi- 
cers of other divisions state that they had never seen 
anything more brilliant than one of the charges 
made by the Reserves into the open field and across 
it, driving the foe into the forest. And if they were 
broken and scattered before night, it was owing to 
the fact that the force thrown against them was nn- 
merically vastly superior. But it is certain that up 
to the shadows of the evening General McCall held 
his position in the edge of the wood, not twenty 
rods from the spot where the action commenced; 
and in his desperate and long-continued defence he 
lost more than one-third of his men. Before the going 
down of the sun he had twice lost and regained his 
batteries of sixteen guns ; and as described to me 
by General McCall, around the last battery was en- 
acted one of those terrible scenes which, once be- 
held, stand out before the mind forever. 

To defend these guns an heroic band of his men 
had rallied. The shadows of the night were falling 
over the fields ; before them the ground was strewed 
with the dead ; on the left were the abandoned cais- 
sons, the dead horses, and the silent cannon. There 
was a lull in the fight ; but again the enemy opened 
in front, and shell and canister crashed through the 
trees above them : to this the Reserves replied. 

In a few moments they saw a brigade of the 

enemy coming out from the shadows of the forest, 

on the further side of the field. They came forward 

at a full run, and though met by a very heavy and de- 

24 



27? DESPERATE FIGHTING. 

stractive fire, they did not pause nor deliver a shot, 
but trailing their guns, advanced. They were led 
by a man of vast muscular strength and prowess ; 
cheering and shouting to his men, he ran on the 
gunners ; the Reserve infantry rushed forward to the 
rescue, and around the cannon between them and 
over the bodies of fallen horses and comrades, com- 
menced a contest of the most furious character. 
Scarcely a single shot was fired, bayonet crossed 
bayonet, and frequently after a death-struggle for 
two or three minutes, the foes stood breathless, with 
guns locked, foot to foot and face to face, each afraid 
to move, lest that would give his enemy the advan- 
tage ; and in that awful moment, when the whole 
being was fired by a frenzy that seemed supernatu- 
ral, the countenance of each was painted on the mind 
of the other forever. The shouts of command ; the 
yells of fury ; the thrust ; the parry ; the spouting 
blood ; the death-cry ; the stroke and crash of the 
clubbed muskets ; the battle receding into the forest, 
and every tree and bush the scene of a tragedy — 
and then again the pressing out around the cannon ; 
the ofiicer mounted on the broken wheels, cheering 
and calling his men ; the pause of a moment from 
exhaustion or to rally, and then the renewal of the 
fight with greater fury than ever, made this a spec- 
tacle of awful grandeur. 

In all this contest, the leader of the Confederates 
had been successful in every struggle, and hurled to 
the ground, with scornful ease, less powerful men ; 
everywhere a path opened before him, until a man 
of equal strength sprang forward to meet him. After 
they had parried each other's thrusts, for a moment 



A SINGLE COMBAT. 279 

they paused, looked at eacli other intently, as if to 
determine what next to do, both feeling he had met 
a foe worthy of his steel ; and again they rushed for- 
ward with renewed desperation, each intent upon 
pressing back the other, until some fall or stumble 
would give him the victory. But they were so 
equally matched that not a single foot did either re- 
cede; backwards and forwards they bent and dashed; 
then again foot to foot, and arm to arm they strug- 
gled ; unlocking their guns, which had been twisted 
together, they would start back and then dash for- 
ward with the fury of gladiators. Many on both 
sides stopped to look on this desperate personal ren- 
contre ; around the wounded, taking purchase for 
blows on the bodies of the dead, they continued the 
struggle, until, with gun pressed against gun, they 
breathed into each other's faces, and while they thus 
stood the rush of battle bound for a second the arm of 
the Southern giant. His enemy was swift to improve 
the advantage : he darted back, lifted his clubbed gun, 
and brought it down with crushing force on the neck 
of his foe ; the musket of the Rebel dropped from his 
hands, and throwing up his arms in the air, his whole 
body quivered convulsively, and he fell dead. The 
conqueror turned his head, looked up with a grim 
smile of satisfaction into the face of his general, and 
in a moment more disappeared in the whirl and 
cloud of battle. 

Soon fresh reinforcements from the enemy compel- 
led our men to fall back into the forest, and General 
McCall, anxious to learn the fate of the day in other 
parts of the field, rode up the N'ew Market road. 
He was attended by a number of his staff; he had 



280 DEATH OF MAJOK BIDDLE. 

not gone more than forty rods until lie was sur- 
rounded by a considerable force of the enemy ; they 
started out from the forest and demanded his sur- 
render. Several of the of&cers about him turned 
their horses' heads and fled. The soldiers fired on 
them. Major Biddle, of Philadelphia, the chief of 
staff, fell mortally wounded. For his death there 
was expressed universal regret, for all who knew 
him regarded him as a man of the highest courage 
and moral worth. 

General Kearney's division was placed in an open 
field, to the right oblique of General McCall's; he 
had brought up a brave and noble brigade, General 
Taylor's ^ew Jersey troops, to the support of Gene- 
ral McCall, and well did they sustain the honor of 
their State. He placed his troops and batteries to 
the right of the E"ew Market road. On the left there 
was a dark pine forest, and on the right an open 
field, and about one hundred and fifty yards from 
the road a small house, occupied by a negro family ; 
the ground gently declines towards the house, and 
in a few rods beyond is the forest and then the 
swamp. Looking up the I^ew Market road. Gene- 
ral Kearney placed his men, and prepared for the 
conflict. I have heard many soldiers speak of the 
power that was imparted to them by the general's 
look and words ; as they passed by him marching 
into this open field, he looked on each man, and 
said : "Go in, my boys, go in gayly, go in gayly ; " 
and during all the subsequent conflict, they heard 
the voice of their general : " Gayly, gayly, my boys." 

The fiercest contest raged around the negro house ; 
seized by the Confederates one moment and the next 



THE TWO COLOR-BEARERS. 281 

driven out, and then lield by our men. A color- 
bearer, Sergeant (now Lieutenant) Weeks, at one 
corner of this house held the flag of the 63d Penn- 
sylvania, and concealed from the fire of the enemy 
stretched it out, waved it and shouted ; at the oppo- 
site corner stood the Confederate flag-bearer, and 
each waved defiantly his flag in the face of the other. 
The great question was, ''Who should be shot 
first?" At length the Confederates began to retire, 
and the flag was borne out into the open fields; 
and in the melee and conflict it was captured by 
one of the Ninth Reserves, who happened to be 
on a visit to our men at the commencement of the 
action, and being unable to reach his regiment had 
fallen in with us for the fight. Thus continued, with 
varying fortunes, the battle of the day. 

I subsequently dressed the wounds of a young 
man, of the 4th Pennsylvania Reserves, not more 
than eighteen years old, who was deeply injured, 
and narrowly escaped death while assisting to capture 
this flag. He had been shot in the face, the ball 
entering near the nose, descending through the 
mouth, and coming out in the neck. 

"How did you receive this injury in the face?" 

"It was a musket ball," he replied. " I was bend- 
ing low to escape the fire of the enemy's cannon, 
and when I was struck, I knew it was best to fight 
on. I was roused, and there was no one to help me 
away." 

" But this bayonet wound in your back ? That is 
rather a bad place for a soldier to be struck." 

"That," said he, "I received when we were fight- 
ing for the Rebel fiag. There was a furious contest 
24* 



282 A FIGHT FOR A REBEL FLAG. 

for it ; for when tlie flag-bearer had fallen, hundreds 
of the Confederate soldiers hurried out of the woods 
to recover it. We had no time to load, but it was 
bayonet, clubbed musket, and pistol. While we were 
tossing to and fro, one of the Rebel soldiers struck 
me in the back. I felt the bayonet the moment it 
touched the skin. I bent and turned rapidly around. 
The bayonet was drawn off the gun, and remained 
in my back. The stab was not deep, but it stung 
me. When we had taken the flag, and they had 
removed me back into the woods, Jim Scott pulled 
the bayonet out." 

"And what of the man that struck you ? " 

" Oh, I killed him. I had two bayonets, and he 
had none." 

Many desperate battles were fought, and victories 
won. It was emphatically a fight of many fields, in 
which there was neither combination nor union, but 
resulting in the repulse of the enemy at all points. 

As soon as the action had ceased from the in- 
creasing darkness, our men lay down on the field 
and slept after the exhaustion of many days. Such 
of the wounded as could walk were aided to leave 
the field, and in the various farm-houses found sur- 
geons and protection. Some of our wounded, during 
their wanderings, fell in with Eebel soldiers, and were 
by them helped away. 

The conduct of General Kearney in this battle was 
the admiration of all his corps. He was everywhere 
directing all movements, imparting, by his presence 
and clear-sightedness, the most determined courage 
to his men. Wherever the danger was greatest, there 
he pressed and carried with him a personal power 



o 
o 



2§ 

a CO 

"is K 




HOOKER ANP HEINTZLEMAN. 283 

that was equal to a reinforcement. In a pre-eminent 
degree he possessed that military prescience, or 
anticipation of what was coming, and the point of 
an enemy's attack, which has characterized every 
great man who has risen to distinction in the art 
of war. 

To General Hooker is likewise due the highest 
praise for the wisdom of his plans, and for the order 
and impetuosity which his own brilliant enthusiasm 
imparted to his men. Brothers in arms, always on 
the best of terms, mutually admiring the strong 
points of each other's characters, they uniformly co- 
operated and stood firmly by each other in the hour 
of danger. "Whoever commanded, they were always 
faithful to the army and the country. 

General Heintzleman was commander of the third 
army corps, all the regiments of which were engaged 
in this battle. For him all the ofiicers and men had 
the deepest respect. He was always cool, and in 
danger perfectly self-possessed. A man of great 
kindness of heart, considerate of his men, temperate, 
wisel}' discriminating and just, there was felt in him 
as a soldier the utmost confidence ; without anv of 
those knightly and brilliant qualities which made 
the names of Hooker and Kearney the synonyms of 
chivaliy and daring, he was brave without rashness, 
and life-saving without imbecility, 'dignified in de- 
meanor, yet easily approached, and the friend of 
every soldier. 

Thus ended one of the most severe battles of the 
Peninsula. The enemy signally failed in reaping 
the harvest of captures, guns and wagon trains, which 
he hoped to gain. 



^84 THE SIXTY-THIRD PENNSYLVANIA. 

On no battle-field in tlie campaign was there ex- 
hibited such invincible determination to conquer or 
die. Our men fought as those who, hardened by an 
hundred conflicts, had lost the dread of every missile 
of destruction and the fear of death. It was a series 
of brilliant, sanguinary engagements, where in deep 
forests and open fields deeds of the highest heroism 
were performed on both sides. 

When all fought so nobly and well, it would be 
invidious to distinguish. On the forethought of our 
generals and the invincible bravery of some of our 
regiments at certain moments in the battle turned 
the fate of that day. 

General Kearney uniformly spoke of the conduct 
of the 63d Pennsylvania at Glendale in terms of the 
highest praise. He returned to the regiment his 
thanks for their glorious deeds on that day. It was 
detailed to support Thompson's Battery, the men 
lying on their faces in front of the guns ; four several 
times the Confederates came out of the forests, and 
charged to take them. The serving of this battery 
was most admirable, and its sweep of grape and 
shell frightfully destructive. "With desperate cour- 
age, in four lines of battle, one pressing on the other, 
the enemy came forward to take it at all hazards ; 
they were met by a terrific storm of grape, canister, 
and shrapnell, and wide lines were opened in their 
ranks, and men fell as grass before the mower. But 
still the tremor was only for a moment ; on they 
pressed, closing their broken files as they ran ; another 
terrific burst of flame would dash scorching streams 
into their very faces ; still on the broken fragments 



THE SIXTY- THIRD PENNSYLVANIA. 285 

pressed, until almost to the muzzle of the cannon ; 
then up sprang the protecting regiments, the firing 
of the artillery ceased, and musket and hayonet were 
left to decide the contest. The enemy could not 
stand the heavy stroke of the moment, but broke 
and fled; rallying three several times with fresh re- 
inforcements, they ventured out into the open ground, 
and each time they were repelled with even greater 
slaughter than before, until great heaps of their dead 
were lying like mounds on the field. 

At length when the enemy were evidently pre- 
paring for a fresh charge. Captain Thompson sent 
a message to Colonel Hays that his ammunition 
was nearly exhausted, and his guns would be taken 
unless some device could be instantly suggested to 
save them. Colonel Hays immediately ordered a 
charge on the enemy, and before they had fully come 
out into the field, they saw our men dashing at 
them in the edge of the forest. They interpreted 
this bold movement as the evidence of the arrival 
of heavy reinforcements, and hastily retreated into 
the deeper woods ; and before they recovered from 
their surprise the guns were all safely removed, and 
a section of De Russe's battery took their place. 

The battle continued long into the night, and was 
here and there renewed in the forest with a frenzy 
not witnessed in any previous contest. I afterwards 
heard some of the Confederate ofiicers speak of a 
false movement which they made during the night ; 
they thought they saw indications of retreat in our 
army, and brought up a strong body of reserves in 
pursuit, and as they advanced across the open field 



286 ARMING OF THE SICK. 

and approached the forest, there suddenly opened 
upon them a long line of fire, and the deadly halls 
leaped from three or four thousand guns, and in an 
instant the ground was strewed with their slain. 
This was followed hy the charge, and they were 
swept from the field with more than the fury of a 
tempest ; and of the hundreds who had gone forth, 
hut few returned to their companies. 

There can he no douht that in this battle the loss 
of the enemy was much greater than ours, for the 
Rebel generals threw away the lives of their men 
with a mad, murderous rashness which has scarcely 
a parallel in history. 

After this night attack and defeat, nothing was 
seen of the enemy ; and between midnight and the 
morning all our forces left the field of battle, taking 
with them all their guns, except those lost by General 
McCall's division, and before nine a. m. of Tuesday 
morning the entire army was in safety on Malvern 
Hill. 

In this battle one of the most interesting specta- 
cles was the arming of the long procession of the 
sick, who could not find their regiments, nor move 
so rapidly as might be demanded of those who were 
well. They requested to be armed and placed in 
positions to be of service, and rendered essential aid 
in the conflict that followed. 

On this, as on other fields, the necessity of the 
hour compelled the leaving to the tender mercies 
of the enemy the wounded of our army, of whom 
I presume there were not fewer than one thousand. 
I shall subsequently speak of their treatment, and 
the condition in which I found them. 



ASLEEP ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 287 

Many of our men were taken prisoners who had. 
fought until the hour of midnight, and as soon as the 
battle ended fell asleep, and did not awake until the 
morning sun shone in their faces, and then arose to 
find the enemy in possession of the battle ground, 
and with strong guards watching every road. 



288 SITUATION OF MALVERN HILL. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

MALVERN HILL. 

The Preparations for the Battle — The Scene — The Imposing 
Grandeur of the Spectacle — Commencement of the Action — 
Consternation and Panic of the Confederates — Scene at the 
Hospital. 

The distance of Malvern Hill from Glendale is 
about two and a half miles, and early on the morn- 
ing of Tuesday, the 1st of July, our entire army was 
in position on this elevated plateau. 

Malvern Hill, on account of being the scene of 
the final conflict of the Peninsular campaign, de- 
serves more than a passing notice. 

It is an elevation of possibly one hundred and fifty 
feet in height, and fronts on James River, which is 
about two miles to the south, and to the north on open 
fields about two-thirds of a mile in length and one- 
third in width. To the south and west it is quite 
steep and difficult of ascent, but to the north and 
east is a gentle slope. On the summit stands the 
Crew House. This was an old-fashioned but sump- 
tuous country-seat, surrounded by innumerable out- 
houses and embosomed in vines and trees. On the 
slope and height of this hill General McClellan su- 
perintended the planting of three hundred pieces of 



A BEAUTIFUL SCENE. 289 

artillery, so as to sweep the fields and forests in every 
direction. 

As our army took their position on this hill there 
opened to them a magnificent prospect. They had 
come out of the darkness and gloom of dismal 
swamps and jungle scenes, and from fields trodden 
into barrenness. Here for miles our delighted gaze 
surveyed a country which had not yet been devastated. 
There were fields covered with tall rows of graceful 
corn, with their tassels dancing in the breeze. Here 
wide fields of almost ripe wheat, waving in long 
golden lines, rich with the promise of the coming 
harvest ; while almost at our feet, winding through 
its green meadows, meandered the gentle James 
River. 

After breathing the air of battle-fields and death for 
many days, and looking only on spectacles of misery 
and ghastliness, the pleasure which the delicious air, 
the fragrance, and the scene of beauty presented to 
our army is one of the things which will never fade 
from the mind. 

Our forces were drawn up on this hill. During the 
previous night rifle-pits had been dug under the 
guns in the slope. The troops in these pits were 
covered with straw and fresh-reaped grain, and the 
glasses of the officers of the Confederate Army could 
not see that before they could take these batteries 
they would have to encounter 10,000 bayonets. 

The strength of our position was increased by the 
presence of five gunboats, ready at a moment to open 
in action. The moral influence of these on our army 
was very manifest. 

During the morning the enemy, now under the 
25 



290 magruder's advance. 

command of General Magruder, assisted by Jack- 
son, Longstreet, Hill, and Huger, advanced from 
difierent points, shelling the woods as they slowly 
felt their way; and at length, about noon, their 
skirmishers discovered our position. The field in 
our front was about three-fourths of a mile long and 
half a mile wide, and beyond it a deep, dark pine 
forest. On the edge of this field at different points 
General Magruder threw out batteries and regiments, 
for what purpose coukl not be known ; and no sooner 
were they disclosed than they brought on them a 
rain of death. In a moment the regiments were 
swept away like chaff before a storm. The horses 
were killed at the guns, the carriages were tossed 
into a thousand fragments, the caissons were ex- 
ploded, and the gunners who still lived escaped into 
the shelter of the woods. 

About 4 o'clock p. m., General Magruder ordered 
an advance along the entire left wing of his line : 
and there were brought out into the field several divi- 
sions and batteries. Prominent amongst these were 
the brigades of Toombs, Cobb, Wright, and Armis- 
ted, among the finest troops in the Southern Army. 
They were sustained by about twenty pieces of ar- 
tillery thrown out into the plain. The first column 
advanced with steady step towards our batteries; 
but long before it reached the middle of the open 
ground the troops were met by such an iron tem- 
pest, that the few who survived fell to the ground, 
and abandoning their guns commenced crawling 
back on their faces toward the forest. 

A second column, with a courage which, on the 
part of their officers, was madness, but was at the 



SLAUGHTER OF THE REBELS. 291 

moment the admiration of our army, ran out into 
the field and pressed towards our death-dealing can- 
non. These again were mowed down. They rallied, 
feebly shouted defiance, pressed into the cloud of 
smoke, and another tempest of fire lighted up the 
scene for a moment, and that column was gone. 
Here and there a straggler emerged from the smoke 
and ran across the field towards his friends : he was 
but one, while the hundreds were lying mangled and 
dead on the plain. 

A third column was thrown out from the cover 
of the forest; fresh batteries were brought into play, 
and when the smoke had slightly lifted up from the 
field, the terrific conflict was renewed — again the 
guns of the Confederates were silenced, the horses 
killed, the caissons on fire, and the regiments cut 
down ; reforming, now prostrate, and then springing 
forward until their thinned and ragged lines, as they 
came within musket range, presented so pitiable a 
spectacle that our men fired with little purpose to 
kill. 

About half-past five a powerful body of troops 
from General Magruder's centre were advxinced into 
the field ; their orders were to press forward over 
every obstacle. There is every reason to believe that 
these troops had been rendered insensible to fear by 
whisky drugged with gunpowder; and undeterred 
by the fate of those who had perished in previous 
attacks, with shouts and yells they pressed towards 
our men. Many pieces of our cannon opened upon 
them, and shell and grape swept through their lines ; 
treading on the dead, pressing down the living who 
had fallen to the ground, they with unwavering step 



292 A CRITICAL MOMENT. 

still advanced ; emboldened by their example, other 
regiments ran out with wild cheers from the forest ; 
on and on over the field of carnage they advanced ; 
every discharge of our guns made great gaps in their 
lines, but instantly closing up, they pressed fonvard ; 
another sheet of flame would spread out over the 
field, and the roar and thunder followed, moving the 
ground as if trembling in the convulsion of an earth- 
quake. When the smoke cleared away a little, the 
broken columns were seen still with fiery madness 
pressing on. Already they had begun to ascend the 
slope, and had succeeded in coming so near that our 
artillery could no longer so damagingly sweep the 
ground. 

"With all the frenzy of maniacs they still ran tow- 
ards us ; the efibrts of the artillery were redoubled ; 
the men at our guns turned pale and stood aghast; 
another moment, and the day might be lost: — just 
then up sprang our concealed men in the rifle-pits, 
and a long stream of fire darted forth from a thou- 
sand muskets, and springing forward with fixed 
bayonet they met the foe, who quailed, wavered, 
and renewed the conflict, but it was in vain : with 
the insanity of men who sought death they still con- 
tinued the struggle, and a long line of their dead at 
the base of this hill bore witness to the severity and 
destructiveness of the contest. The whole scene at 
this time was one of terror and appalling splendor. 

The batteries on the heights continued to pour a 
constant and withering fire into the forests where 
the forces of the enemy were concealed, and simul- 
taneously the thunder of a hundred great guns 
shook the hill, and caused the waters of the river to 



PANIC OF THE REBELS. 293 

tremble. The firing of the gunboats added very 
much to the overpowering grandeur of the hour. 
The shells discharged from the monster guns of 
these vessels rushed through the air with a frightful 
shriek that was heard above the roar of battle ; then 
when they entered the forests great trees were 
shivered into a thousand fragments, the branches 
were torn from others and tossed into the heavens, 
or thrown far into the deep shades, and when they 
burst it was with an explosion that shook the earth 
for miles. The terror inspired by these shells was 
such as to deprive the Rebel soldiers of all courage, 
and they fled into the deeper recesses of the forest. 

The contest in front of the rifle-pits was but short, 
for, unable to bear up against the impetuous attack 
of our men, the enemy endeavored to remove his 
broken columns from the field. As they fled they 
were pursued three-fourths of a mile by the Union 
troops, and the entire Rebel army was struck with 
a panic ; and if at this moment we could have 
brought ten thousand reserves into the field, we 
might have marched back again and retaken all we 
had lost, and without any difliculty reached Rich- 
mond: — this statement will be amply confirmed in 
subsequent chapters. 

On the fleeing columns of the enemy our batteries 
and gunboats continued to fire until ten o'clock at 
night, throwing the shells into the forests ; for hours 
not a gun replied, and not even a courier dared to 
show himself in the open field. 

The battle was over, but the cannonading still 
continued, and shells and balls of every kind tore 
through the woods in a ceaseless whirlwind of fury. 
25* 



294 RETREAT TO HARRISON'S LANDING. 

In tlie meantime thousands of the Confederates 
fled in the wildest disorder from the scene, and hid 
themselves in swamps and hollows ; soldiers without 
guns, horsemen without caps and swords, came to 
the hospitals in the battle-field of Glendale, and re- 
ported that their regiments and brigades were swept 
away, and that they alone were '' escaped to tell the 
tale." 

It is one of the strangest things in this week of 
disaster that General McClellan ordered a retreat to 
Harrison's Landing, six miles down the James River, 
after we had gained so decided a victory. When 
this order was received by the impatient and eager 
army, consternation and amazement overwhelmed 
our patriotic and ardent hosts. Some refused to obey 
the command. General Martindale shed tears of 
shame. The brave and chivalrous Kearney said in 
the presence of many officers : "I, Philip Kearney, 
an old soldier, enter my solemn protest against this 
order for retreat, — we ought, instead of retreating, 
to follow up the enemy and take Richmond. And 
in full view of all the responsibility of such a declara- 
tion, I say to you all, such an order can only be 
prompted by cowardice or treason." 

And with all, hopelessness and despair succeeded 
the flush of triumph. In silence and gloom our vic- 
torious army commenced retiring from an enemy 
utterly broken, scattered, and panic stricken. 

And when there was not a foe within miles of us, 
we left our wounded behind to perish, and any one 
witnessing the wild eagerness of our retreat would 
have supposed that we were in the greatest peril 
from a vigilant and triumphant enemy. 



REBEL REPORTS. 295 

I was at tlie time of this battle at tlie hospital in 
Carter's house. All our intelligence from our army 
reached us through officers of the Confederates who 
came in during Monday and Tuesday, and as usual 
with them, every movement was a success, every bat- 
tle a brilliant victory. They assured us that the bat- 
tle of Glendale or ^^elson's Farm on Monday was to 
our army a most ruinous defeat. ''"We had lost half 
our train of wagons and ambulances, and invaluable 
stores of every kind ; that we had been driven from 
every field where they had attacked us ; that whole 
divisions of our army had been swept away ; that 
thousands of our men in small bands or alone were 
scattered and then hiding in forests ; that we had 
lost six generals," and one officer assured me, on the 
honor of a gentleman, " that he had seen twelve of 
our general officers dead or prisoners; that four 
hundred officers were among the captives, the pris- 
oners were numbered by thousands, and the fields 
for miles were covered with our dead ; that thou- 
sands of our wounded, as he rode along, were cry- 
ing for water and perishing of want; that General 
McClellan was surrounded by their troops, and the 
Union Army so demoralized that not a single divi- 
sion could be induced to fight with them; that when 
brought into the field whole brigades had thrown 
down their arms and marched over to them as pris- 
oners ; and that officers of our army were then at Gen- 
eral Lee's head-quarters arranging the terms of sur- 
render." Such was the gloomy picture which they 
painted, and with such protestations and humane 
regrets that we could not but fear that there might 
be much truth in their statements ; and the dead, 



296 COLONEL MARSHALL. 

dying, and suffering around increased tlie gloom 
that oppressed us. For myself, I had many relatives 
and friends in the army whom I mourned as dead, 
and our surgeons and wounded officers and men 
were all affected in the same manner. Each one had 
a brother or dear friend for whom he anxiously in- 
quired, and turned his face to the wall and wept. 

We all felt deeply humiliated, and we were not 
anxious to outlive our shame and the ruin of our 
cause. I had spent much of this day (Tuesday) at 
Savage Station, assisting our wounded, praying with 
and comforting the d^dng, but at four o'clock p. m. 
returned to the hospital, of which I had especial 
charge. To this again had come in several Confed- 
erate officers : amongst the rest. Colonel Marshall, a 
son of Humphrey Marshall, of Kentucky, who, with- 
out any of the bitterness and swagger of those who 
had preceded him, confirmed the previous statements. 

At this time we heard the roar of battle in the dis- 
tance. He assured us this was the Southern Army 
hemming in McClellan, and compelling his surren- 
der. The sound coming forth from the bosom of 
forests in the distance increased in volume, until it 
seemed to us that all the elements of terrific grandeur 
were let loose ; and the mighty din, the crash, and 
thunder imparted such a tremor to the ground that 
the very earth throbbed with emotion. 

All the nurses and the sick able to walk had as- 
sembled in front of the hospital, where a slight ele- 
vation enabled us to hear better. E'o words were 
spoken except prayer ; each, a little apart, was ab- 
sorbed by his own emotions. Was all this the work 
of the enemy pressing our discomfited and fleeing 



FLIGHT OF THE REBELS. 297 

army ? Might not hundreds of our men even at this 
moment he swept into the river hy that tempest of 
nre ? horrors ! what appalling scenes ! what mis- 
eries would be on such a field, where rioted all the 
enginery of death ! 

Suddenly the roar of battle burst upon us in more 
stupendous magnitude, and the awful thunder, de- 
scending from the air, appeared to enter into the earth, 
and it trembled and rocked beneath our feet. With 
minds and senses wrought up to intense activity, we 
could not be mistaken. N^earer and nearer came 
the sounds of the battle ; the shells had a wider play, 
and were thrown closer to us ; the rattle of musketry, 
at first scarcely heard, was now more distinct. We 
looked at each other — we were slow to catch the 
hope. At length one exclaimed: "We are chasing 
the enemy back; I hear our guns." ""We have de- 
feated them ; our men are coming. Hurrah ! hurrah ! 
thank God, we have a country and an army yet." We 
shook hands as long-parted friends, and in a moment 
every face was wet with tears, and the shout of 
triumph was blended with the song of gratitude. 

It required no courier to bear to us the tidings of 
our victory. We were just as certain as though an 
angel had told us, that our army had routed the foe ; 
and that night, after many nights of wakefulness, we 
slept like little children. 

I subsequently learned from many of our officers 
that the morning of Tuesday was marked by the 
deepest despondency. Our men were exhausted by 
thirty days of constant watching, labor, and fight- 
ing : the heat withering and blasting as the air of a 
furnace. Many had not slept for days, and scarcely 



298 THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE. 

tasted food in a week; and now, weary and pros- 
trated, they felt it would be a privilege to die. 

There were likewise most ominous signs that the 
general officers were apprehensive of fatal disasters. 
The paymasters who were in the army were or- 
dered on board the gunboats. Prince de Joinville, 
who had been with us from the very commence- 
ment of the campaign, and who, constantly active, 
had been everywhere, undeterred by danger, this 
morning left us, taking with him the young men 
his nephews, the Count de Paris and Duke de 
Chartres, who had acted as aids-de-camp to General 
McClellan. 

The commander-in-chief was evidently oppressed 
with the deepest solicitude, for he accompanied the 
Prince and his nephews to the war steamer, and re- 
mained on board until late in the afternoon, com- 
municating his orders by signals and couriers. Dr. 
James Rogers, brigade surgeon of Pobinson's bri- 
gade, who had been ill with fever for several days, 
was likewise on this steamer, and afterwards related 
to me the events and scenes of that day as they came 
under his eye. He said General McClellan was evi- 
dently laboring under the deepest depression, and 
apprehended the worst results. But about four 
o'clock a despatch came from General Marcy, saying 
that our army was holding the enemy at bay at all 
points, and in all probability would drive him from 
the field. This message appeared to lift an im- 
mense burden ofiT the heart of the general, and he 
arose and walked the deck with a buoyant step, and 
from this time evidently listened to the battle with 
new hope. 



THE PENINSULA FLOODED. 29& 

But about Rye o'clock p. m. the commanding gen- 
eral rode into the lines of our army, and remained 
until the action closed. 

General Heintzleman had sent to him a message 
that the troops noticed his absence, and it was exert- 
ing a depressing influence on them, and he could not 
be answerable for the consequences if he longer held 
himself so far aloof from the scene of action and 
danger. 

During the nights of the 1st and 2d of July we 
were visited by one of the heaviest of rain-storms : 
this continued for twenty-four hours without inter- 
mission, until the entire Peninsula was covered with 
water, and rivers rushed where there had been only 
little streams. 

In this storm, on the morning of Wednesday, the 
army fell down to Berkeley or Harrison's Landing. 
This was 'done on account of the superiority of the 
landing, James Hiver at this point being broad and 
deep. The position was of such a character that the 
army could be shielded from any force the enemy 
could bring against us. We could have taken many 
of his abandoned guns from the field, but satisfied 
ourselves with carrying off all our own with incredi- 
ble diflaculty over worse than Crimean roads. 

We retired to Harrison's Landing without the 
enemy making any demonstration in our rear ; and 
weary and exhausted by struggles and battles which 
have probably no parallel in human history, our 
troops found rest. And of the Grand Army of the 
Potomac 58,000 remained, and 60,000 were in hospi- 
tals, lying wounded on the fields, or killed in battle. 

Our loss in the battle of Malvern Hill was slight 



800 REBEL STRAGGLERS. 

compared with that of other days. But the loss of 
the enemy on this single field was fully equal in 
killed and wounded to our losses in the seven days. 
Durins: the entire dav of Wednesday, when the 
rain was descending in torrents, there came in the 
broken fragments of the Confederate Ai-my. The 
"Williamsburs: road for miles was dark with straesrlins:, 
wandering bands : without guns, shiyering in the 
cold rain, destitute of overcoats and without food, 
they presented themselves at our hospitals the most 
pitiable objects I ever saw. They could give no 
intelligent account of the battle, but all spoke of the 
terror inspired by our gunboats. They were like 
the Egyptian whom King David found in the field, 
' • who knew nothing until he had eaten and drunken. ' ' 
They were humble, and took upon themselves none 
of the airs of conquerors. Those who were from 
Virginia and Alabama I found most reasonable and 
open to truth. They were all, however, inert in 
mind, slow in speech, and without any of that bold- 
ness of bearing and independence of character which 
distinguishes the Northern soldier. The fact of 
their being perfectly under the control of an aris- 
tocracy was as palpable as amongst the serfs of 
Russia. They were thankful for shelter and food ; 
and those fi-om Virginia and ^orth Carolina almost 
uniformly said they were forced into the army, and 
were now most anxious to return to their homes. 
Hundreds of these broken bands and gunless men 
came in during the day, and great numbers were 
seen wandering towards Richmond, occasionally 
cowering under the shadow of trees, and sleeping 
in the storm by the wayside. "Wlien met or aroused, 



TERRIBLE EFFECT OF THE SHELLS. 301 

they all eagerly inquired for their regiments or 
divisions, and did not know the difference between 
their own officers and ours. Thev uniformly said 
they had lost their regiment in the battle of Tues- 
day, and having escaped from the field, the rain of 
grape and bomb, and the explosion of the great 
shells thrown from the gunboats, were so terrible 
that human nature could not endure it. The trees 
were falling and shattered around them as if a 
hundred thunderbolts had struck upon them in a 
moment, and the fragments were hurled in every 
direction with far more power than Indian arrows ; 
that the falling branches and the exploding bombs 
drove them further and further into the woods, until 
they were lost to the army. 

The Confederate officers who appeared amongst 
us to-day were silent in regard to the operations of 
yesterday; when asked, they claimed as usual a 
victory, but " thousrht our army was safe from fur- 
ther attack just now." They confessed themselves 
greatly disappointed ; they had been confident that 
our entire forces would be destroyed or captured. 

Terrible as this storm appeared to us, and deeply 
as our pity was excited for our poor fellows lying 
out in the open fields, unable to crawl out of the 
water, or drag themselves to the shelter of the near- 
est tree, this great rain was of service to them : the 
battle-fields were cleansed, their wounds were washed, 
and their bodies cooled. 



24 



302 A. SEARCH FOR THE WOUNDED. 



CHAPTER XX. 

Thursday, July M. 

Report of Dr. Skelton from the Battle-field — Visit to the Sick 
at White Oak Swamp — Visit to the Battle-field of Glendale — 
Condition of the Confederate Army — Nolan, the Singer — 
Lonely Night Ride. 

On this day the heavens cleared, the sun came 
forth again, and although its beams were overpower- 
ingly hot, yet with the return of a pure sky some 
of the gloom that oppressed us was dispersed, and 
we began to devise plans for the effectual relief of 
those near us, who had been lying wounded and 
sick in sheds, barns, and the deserted camps ; and 
measures were taken to search the woods and visit 
every out-of-the-way house, and from these deserted 
dwellings and from the forests were brought in 
many who for days had suffered alone, and endured 
the agonies of desertion, thirst, and pain. 

We had no definite reports of the two last battles, 
and knew nothing certain in regard to the fate of 
our army, until Dr. Skelton, of the 87th E"ew York, 
came in from the Gatewood House, on the Kelson 
farm. He had been detailed to remain with our 
wounded at this house, and being destitute of medi- 
cines and food, rode across the country under guard 
to Savage Station for sanitary and medicinal stores. 

Dr. Skelton was one of the most self-denying of 
our surgeons — his labors were constant and humane. 



DK. SK ELTON. SOB 

He went from field to field, from cabin to cabin, look- 
ing after those who had been wounded, and left 
without attendance and help. And in the hospital 
at the Gatewood House he was unwearied and 
sleepless in his efforts to alleviate the pains and 
meet the wants of that hour. The severity of his 
exertions were well nigh fatal, for he was brought 
up to Eichmond very ill with typhoid fever, and his 
life hung for many weeks in suspense, but I was 
glad to meet him again, having recruited his strength 
and returned to his post of duty. 

Dr: 'Skelton gave a vivid and heart-rending pic- 
ture of the condition of our wounded, and urged 
that something should be done for their relief. It 
was now the fourth day since the battle of Glendale, 
yet no bread or meat had been sent to the hospitals. 
Eight hundred carriages, wagons, and ambulances, 
accompanied by hundreds of citizens of Richmond, 
had come forth from the city, carrying bread, water, 
and wine to their own wounded, and had removed 
them all, but passed by our sufierers unpitied, and 
left them to perish. He moreover represented that 
appeal after appeal had been made to Confederate 
generals and commissaries, but nothing had as yet 
been sent ; that his medicines, bandages, and stores 
had been taken by the orders of surgeons of the 
Confederate army ; that his surgical instruments had 
been borrowed by a prominent surgeon in the South- 
ern service and never returned, and hence he was 
without the means of surgical operations, and that 
death would in many cases result from that loss; 
that the surgical instruments of Dr. Robinson had 
been taken in the same manner, and his horse stolen ; 



30'i CHEERING INTELLIGENCE. 

that numbers of our men were still out on the bat- 
tle-field, and he had no ambulances, stretchers, or 
nurses to bring them in. Such was the gloomy picture 
he drew of the condition of our wounded and sick. 

But there was one drop of sweetness in this cup 
of bitterness. The doctor assured me that the 
enemy was driven from all points of the field on 
Monday night, and that, with the exception of the 
high ground over White Oak Swamp, occupied by 
our artillery, and from which the batteries had been 
withdrawn into the bosom of our infantry, we occu- 
pied all the battle-field on Monday night; and that 
the battle of Malvern Hill was a most brilliant suc- 
cess — the enemy, routed and trembling, had fled 
in every direction, and in some regiments not one- 
half their men could be found, and that our army 
was now entirely safe. 

This brought to us inexpressible relief. I learned 
likewise from Dr. Skelton that there was a consider- 
able number of our sick in the camp formerly oc- 
cupied by General Keyes ; they were men who, 
being unable to proceed further, had dropped be- 
hind the army in its retreat, and been borne to some 
tents in this camp, and there had remained. I re- 
solved if possible to visit them, and bear such assist- 
ance and supplies as were needed. I returned to 
the hospital in Carter's house, and made prepara- 
tions for the journey, and rode through the forests 
and over the fields lately the scene of carnage, and 
now covered with broken carriages and ambulances, 
which had been abandoned and fired, and with the torn 
garments and broken knapsacks which our men had 
cast away. I met on the way great numbers of Con- 



SICK TAKEN TO RICHMOND, 305 

feder.ate soldiers, mostly without guns ; some seek- 
ing their army, but generally inquiring for Kieh- 
mond. They looked sick and exhausted ; they 
represented themselves as being in the divisions 
brought into action on Tuesday, and when their 
men were swept from the field all were scattered. 
Dr. Skelton told me that he had passed a thousand 
such broken stragglers as he came to Savage Sta- 
tion. They mostly represented themselves as be- 
longing to General Jackson's corps. 

I reached the hospital tents on the hill overlook- 
ing White Oak Swamp, and found that many of our 
sick had been removed, as I was told, to Richmond. 
Those that remained had already been placed in 
heavy army wagons, and were lying in all possible 
positions : having no shelter, their sufferings in the 
burning sun were beyond the power of words to 
describe. They generally appeared to be in the last 
stages of typhoid fever. Several of them were so 
ill that I could not obtain their names. They were 
confused and wandering in mind. Poor fellows ! 
I thought it w^as a great mercy that they were not 
keenly alive to the miseries of their condition. I 
went from wagon to wagon, distributed to each a 
small quantity of wine or brandy and a piece of light 
bread, and then went into the neighboring forests 
and cut some boughs from the trees, and placed 
them as shelters from the piercing sun in the hands 
of those able to hold up a little bush ; and where 
they did not possess power to do this, I secured them 
in the front of the wagon, that they might be shaded 
for a time. 

They had been placed in these wagons at two 
2^* 



.^OS SHOCKING INHUMANITY. 

o'clock p. M., and it was now four; still tliere were 
no orders to move. I asked the drivers of the teams 
why they lingered, or at least to remove the men to 
a place of shelter from the sun. They replied they 
did not dare to move an inch until " the lieutenant 
came." I saw then, as often afterwards, that many 
of the Rehel officers were dead to every emotion of 
humanity, and would have been glad to aid in giving 
a quiet passage out of the world to our sick and 
wounded, in order that they might be relieved from 
further trouble. 

One of these men was so ill that it was deemed 
unsafe to remove him from the tent. He had been 
most cruelly neglected, and was evidently appi^oach- 
ing that country where "the wicked cease from 
troubling and the weary are at rest." He wae not, 
however, so far gone as to be unable to give me his 
name and residence. It was A. D. Leburne, of Mer- 
cer, Pennsylvania. I conversed with him, and learned 
from his few broken words that he trusted in Jesus 
and died in peace. 

Some of those lying in the wagons I afterwards 
met in Richmond, and found to my surprise that 
nearly all had survived the miseries of a night jour- 
ney over the worst of roads. 

I returned in the evening to my hospital and made 
arrangements to extend the journey of to-morrow 
beyond White Oak Swamp, and into the battle-fields. 
I secured the promise of the co-operation of our 
guard, whom I wished to take with me to preserve 
me from arrest and violence. 

The commandant at Savage Station was Lieuten- 
ant Lacy Stewart. I went to him and asked permis- 



LIEUTENANT STEWART. 307 

sion to pass within the lines of the Confederate 
Army hej^ond the swamp, and bear supplies of medi- 
cines and food to the wounded. 

In reply, he stated " that it would be impossible 
for him to give me such a pass ; that it would ren- 
der him liable to charges and court-martial ; that 
if anything should happen to me, if a guerilla 
should shoot me from the bushes, if some straggling 
soldier should kill me for my watch or in hope of 
money, he would be held responsible by his Govern- 
ment, and he could give me no pass without send- 
ing me under guard, and he had no men or horses ; 
but, if I still was determined to go, all he could 
promise me was that he thought I w^ould not be shot." 

There was not much comfort in this. I then made 
application for an ambulance and horses, proposing 
to find the driver myself, and in this carry such sup- 
plies as were demanded and I could obtain. 

He was very courteous, and assured me nothing 
would give him greater pleasure than to give me a 
wagon for such a purpose, but every hour he was 
looking for an order to send all he had up to Rich- 
mond, and he would give ofience to the authorities 
there if these were not on hand. 

I then concluded to load to the utmost my own 
two horses and the horse of the guard, which we 
borrowed from a German family under our care. I 
had learned in the meantime, that at the house of 
a Mr. Dudley, who had a beautiful place near us, 
Mrs. Harris had stored in an outhouse all the sani- 
tary goods she was compelled to leave behind in the 
retreat. When I came to his house Mr. Dudley told 
me that officers of the Confederate Government had 



308 BATTLE-FIELD OF GLENDALE. 

been tliere the previous evening and taken posses- 
sion of the stores of Mrs. Harris, and commanded 
that he should permit nothing to be removed. 

The Mississippian sergeant, Howb, our guard, who 
was with me, here came forward and assured Mr. 
Dudley that his authority was fully equal to that of the 
"Eichmond overseers," as he called them; "that 
they wished to eat the preserves, dried fruit, and 
crackers themselves, and give the shirts, drawers, 
etc. etc., to their sons and negroes, or put them into 
stores and sell them ; that what we mshed to obtain 
were for wounded men in the fields, who were with- 
out clothing and perishing with hunger." 

Mr. Dudley, who was really a generous-hearted 
man, listened to this appeal, took Howb's receipt, 
and gave us all that we could, by any possibility, 
bear away. We had the various articles we collected 
placed in bed- sacks, which, being long, suspended 
on the back of my baggage pony, nearly reached to 
the ground. I had on my own horse two such sacks, 
and Howb bore another. It was ten o'clock before 
we left Savage Station and went forth into the burn- 
ing roads and fields. The atmosphere appeared to 
be on fire : the thermometer was 105° in the shade. 
Even in the desert of Arabia I never suffered so 
painfully from heat. Kot a breath of air stirred the 
silent woods, and the leaves of the trees were crisp- 
ing in the intense glare. 

We passed beyond the swamp and were soon in the 
field of the battle of Glendale. The carcasses of dead 
horses were lying in the roads and fields. This was 
the scene of the artillery fight at the commencement 
of the action. I saw but few graves. Our artillery 



CONFEDERATE CAMPS. 809 

was merely here for the purpose of holding the 
enemy's forces in check as long as possible ; but 
the great body of our infantry was one or two miles 
in advance, holding the main roads to Richmond and 
the James River. 

On the heights over the swamp we came upon 
strong bodies of troops of the Confederate Army. 
They were of GeneralJackson's, General A. D. Hill's, 
and General Longstreet's divisions. They were free 
and familiar with us, asking many questions ; and 
uniformly supposing me to be a Confederate sur- 
geon, I was never challenged. There was in their 
camps none of the air of comfort and abundance 
seen in ours ; the men were poorly clad in the coarsest 
homespun, such as I had seen formerly worn by the 
slaves in the South ; the greater part of them were 
without tents and sheltered under booths. 

They had nothing for food but the dirtiest bacon 
sides and flour — salt was an unknown luxury. The 
flour was moistened, rolled into a ball, and baked in 
a fire on the point of a ramrod ; of other bread they 
had none. 

They were without knapsacks and overcoats, and 
many of them had no blankets, and therefore accom- 
plished long marches with great haste and ease; but 
their sufterings in storms and in the chilly nights 
must have been well nigh unendurable. 

Everything on which I looked was immeasurably 
inferior to the equipments of our army. The horses 
were poor and fed on corn only ; the army wagons 
were of the fashion in use on the National Road 
when I was a boy, with such length of coupling that 
each wagon looked like a section of a pontoon 



310 LAX DISCIPLINE. 

bridge; the bed was deeply hollowed in the centre, 
and running back and forwards like a pair of huge 
horns. The harness of the horses was old and dried 
in the sun. In these wagons there were no commis- 
sary stores, but guns and ammunition. 

The gun-cal-riages and caissons had evidently 
passed through trying scenes, and looked as if they 
would soon shake to pieces. The artillery horses 
were quite as poor as those already mentioned, and 
had all the appearance of neglect. 

In the camp there was little of that order and 
military discipline which we could have seen even in 
the newest regiments in our service. There was none 
of that careful guarding of roads, that scrutiny of 
citizens and soldiers to which I had been accustomed, 
but as it appeared to me great carelessness in all 
these respects. But they were in a country of which 
they knew every path, and were familiar with every 
resident. 

After passing through these various divisions of 
the Confederate Army, I was more than ever sur- 
prised at the success of their late movement. 

But in one thing they had greatly the advantage 
of us ; they were well, the air of the Peninsula did 
not palsy their strength, and the heat did not inter- 
fere with marching and action in the field. In 
another respect their condition was better than that 
of our soldiers — they were not burdened with sixty 
pounds weight of impediments, and therefore were 
not exhausted by a few miles of marching or by a run 
of two miles at double-quick. 

I now came to the Brackett House, about one 
mile and a half beyond the swamp. This was one 



CONFEDERATE UNIFORMS. 81j 

of the old Yirginia plantations ; the land had the 
exhausted appearance of a region which had heen 
in cultivation for ages. The house stands a few rods 
to the right of the road, and far in the rear stretches 
the innumerable outhouses of a slave estate. Be- 
tween these huts and pens were sweltering masses 
of barn, kitchen, and stable offal. 

In the fields were encampments of General A. D. 
Hill's troops ; some of his regiments were on parade, 
and presented lines of men in all conceivable cos- 
tumes — some dressed in grey, others in the blue 
cloths of our troops, others in brown ; many were 
ragged, some sleeveless, and a multitude I thought 
were shirtless. 

When I came to the front of this house the 
spectacle was at once novel and distressing. Within 
twenty feet of it stands a large poplar tree : under 
the shadow of this was lying and reclining a great 
number of our wounded and sick soldiers. Some 
of them were almost naked, having cast away the 
coats, pantaloons, and shirts which were saturated 
and stiffened with blood. Some were screened under 
a few bushes ; others had boards so placed as to 
shelter them from the sun ; some were hobbling 
around on rude crutches ; others were lying passive 
and dying on the bare ground. Mingled with them 
were many Confederate soldiers : some of these were 
sick, but the great majority were there for conversa- 
tion and from curiosity. 

I first found the surgeons in charge. Dr. Osburne, 
of the 42d IlTew York, Dr. Kittinger, of the 100th 'New 
York, Dr. Underwood, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, 
and to them made known the fact that I had brought 



312 DISTRIBUTION OF SUPPLIES. 

supplies of food, clothing, and medicines from Savage 
Station. A portion of the last I placed in their hands, 
and requested permission to distribute the others at 
pleasure through the various tents, houses, and sta- 
bles where our sick and wounded were lying. 

This was kindly granted : I then went through the 
mansion house ; all the furniture had been removed 
from the rooms. Our wounded men were lying side 
by side on the bare floor; they were strewn along 
the passages and porticoes ; and wherever there was 
a foot of room there reclined or couched a poor 
sufl:erer. I stopped and talked with each one, asking 
him of his condition, of his pains and wants, and 
giving to all, if they found it possible to eat, a piece 
of soft bread or cracker. Many of them had no 
hope of life : they knew their wounds were of such 
a character that death was certain. 

I often asked them if they regretted that they 
had made the greatest sacrifice that man can ever 
make for his country. I do not now remember one 
solitary instance in which was expressed any regret, 
but they generally said, " 'No, we felt we were right, 
and that this rebellion was a great crime against 
God and man, and we took up arms for the defence 
of our country and her laws, and if we have to die 
in such a cause, why should we murmur? — we give 
our lives to our country and our names to our 
children." "When this last word was repeated there 
was always a tremor of the voice, and the eyes filled 
with tears. And very frequently they would say, ^' the 
bitterness of death would be passed if we could but 
see our parents, or wives and children before we die, 
but that cannot be." I spoke to many of them of the 



PRIVATE NOLAN. 313 

consolations of religion, and that our Lord knew 
what it was to be wounded and to die, and He was 
very pitiful and of tender mercy ; and if they looked 
to Him in this hour He would grant them such a 
sense of His gracious presence and forgiving love 
as would soften their beds and prepare them to die 
in peace. In many cases they assured me that they 
had found it so already ; and as they were lying alone 
on the fields, and through long painful nights, with no 
companions but the stars, they had lifted their hearts 
to God in prayer, and confessed their sins and sought 
mercy, and they hoped they were heard, for the fear 
of death was now gone ; they had placed themselves 
like little children in the bosom of the Redeemer. 

Many of the men most severely wounded were- 
cheerful and happy. One of these noble fellows T 
shall have occasion to mention again ; his name was 
ITolan, of Blair County, Pennsylvania. He was very 
badly wounded ; his left limb was taken off above 
the knee, but he uttered not a word of complaint, 
sung hymns, his soul was full of joy, and his lips of 
praise. The goodness of God and the love of Jesus 
were his constant themes ; his face was radiant with 
peace, and if we had not seen the bleeding stump 
we would have thought he was in perfect health. 

When I spoke to him he knew me, and immedi- 
ately burst out in most touching language, in ac- 
knowledgment of the mercy of God to him ; his 
pains had not been worth mention, while his joy had 
been ecstatic and full, and when he was lying in the 
fields it was as if the angels had been sent to minis- 
ter to him, his God was a covert from the tempest. 
27 



314 A GHASTLY WOUND. 

He never knew until now how wide tlie ocean and 
bow unfathomable the depth of God's love. 

Such were some of the men w^ho deserve to have 
their names recorded as amongst the martyrs of 
Jesus. He had a magnificent voice, clear, rich, and 
sweet, a little more tremulous and warbling from the 
pain and exhaustion of the last few days, but one of 
the finest I ever heard ; and as he would sing, 

"Jesus, my God, I know His name; 
His name is all my trust ; 
Nor will He put my soul to shame, 
Nor let my hope be lost," 

many a poor groaner would suspend his moans ; the 
words of faith and hope fell upon all as gentle dew, 
and it was a gleam of sunshine in the darkness of 
their prison-house. This man deserved the gratitude 
of many, for he brought to them the cup of salva- 
tion, and taught them to bear their pains with 
patience, and by his words of comfort and songs in 
the night lightened their miseries. 

Lying alongside of Mr. ITolan was a young man 
from the mountains of Pennsylvania, of the Reserves, 
who had been struck by a six-pound cannon-ball. It 
had passed between the large bones of the thigh and 
abdomen and lodged in the muscle of the hip. The 
ball was cut out after he had been brought in ; the 
physicians placed it in my hands and made it a pres- 
ent to me, but the difiiculty of carrying such a pon- 
derous thing, under the circumstances, compelled 
me to leave it behind, much to my regret now. 

He bore his sufierings heroically ; he was a man 
of splendid physical propoi-tions— his muscles were 
iron and his bones brass. "No one could see from 



DAVID COURSON. 315 

his face that he had suffered such a prodigious shock. 
The physicians spoke in astonishment of his surviv- 
ing the blow half an hour, and had not now the 
slightest hope of his living from day to day. Yet 
that young man survived, being borne up to Rich- 
mond, fourteen miles, in an army wagon, and lived 
eighteen days, and then died, not so much front his 
wound as from breathing the pestilential air of the 
Libby Prison. 

In front of this house was lying on the ground a 
soldier from Franklin, Pennsylvania, David Cour- 
son ; his left thigh was broken by a musket-ball, and 
he was then awaiting amputation. He told me that 
he had remained on the battle-field from the night 
of the 30th until the 3d, when he was brought in. 
He said that the Confederate soldiers had been very 
kind to him, stopping as often as passing by. One 
of them cut branches from a tree and made a booth 
to shelter him ; they brought him water, and they 
would come from their camp and sit by him for hours, 
to cheer him and to enable him to better endure his 
sufferings. 

I saw him again on Saturday after the amputation ; 
he had borne it well, and I hoped he could live : he 
continued to improve in the open air, but when 
removed to the dungeons of Richmond, he as well 
as others soon perished. He was a brave man. In 
one of my morning rounds in the prison I came to 
the place where I had left Courson on the previous 
night, suffering from heat and nervous exhaustion, 
but not complaining nor apparently near his end. 
But the next morning his place was vacant. 

"Where is Courson ? " I said to a wounded soldier. 



316 A NOBLE YOUTH. 

"Gone up, gone up," said he. — Thus suddenly did 
many drop out of life. 

During my walks through the rooms of the house 
a young officer came to me and invited me to come 
upstairs and see some officers who were lying in one 
of the chambers. I record the name of this young 
man,* because though wounded he was nursing all 
his brother officers — bringing to them water, super- 
intending the preparation of such food as he could 
obtain, and I have rarely seen a young man in whose 
fiice shone out such force of benevolence. And I 
was deeply grieved to learn afterwards that he had 
been sent to Richmond and compelled to walk four- 
teen miles in the hot sun, and reached there exhausted 
and feverish, and died in two days of lockjaw, another 
victim of the heartless cruelty of the Confederate 
officers and Government. 

In this room were lying Lieutenant-colonel Mc- 
Intire, 1st Reserves, Pa. ; Lieutenant-colonel Wood- 
worth, 3d Reserves, Pa. ; Captain W. W. Wliite, 7th 
Reserves, Pa. ^ Captain McCleary, 5th Reserves, Pa. ; 
Captain J. Culbertson, 9th Reserves, Pa. ; Captain 
P. J. Smith, 2d Reserves, Pa. ; Captain E. B. Gates, 
4th Reserves, Pa. ; Lieutenant I. Lehman, 3d Re- 
serves, Pa. ; Adjutant W. W. Stewart, 1st Reserves, 
Pa. ; Lieutenant J. G. McCauley, 7th Reserves, Pa. ; 
and Lieutenant August Muller, 20th Massachusetts. 

It was the fourth of July, and though most of 
these officers were severely wounded, yet they found 
heart to sing the " Star-spangled Banner" and the 
"Red, White, and Blue." They likewise hung out 

* Sergeant Ross, from Lockhaven, Pennsylvania. 



A HEARTLESS SURGEON. 317 

of the window two small American flags. The songs 
and waving flags deeply angered some Confederate 
ofiicers, and they threatened to have a volley fired 
into the window ; but at length satisfied themselves 
by shouting, "You can never take Eichmond, for 
you will have to cross a very wide [Lee) lea, and 
the biggest kind of a Stonewall, and then toil up 
two very high {Hills) hills, and fight your way every 
step through a (Longstreet) long street, and after all 
have {Huger) huger difiiculties to surmount." And 
then the whole afiair ended in a mutual laugh and 
shout. 

There were lying around this house on the open 
ground and in the outhouses 450 men. And I fear there 
was good reason to believe that some of the com- 
plaints of the officers and men, in regard to their 
surgeons, were not without foundation. It certainly 
betrayed extreme heartlessness in a surgeon who, 
when told of the miserable condition of many of our 
wounded men in the wet, muddy fields, and urged 
to go to their relief, to most positively refuse to go 
out from the house, " for he did not wish to soil his 
white canvas shoes ! " 

Dr. Osburne, whom I subsequently saw in Rich- 
mond, was unwell, and bore with him for many months 
the seeds of disease contracted on the Peninsula. 
All spoke in praise of Dr. Kittinger, who faithfully 
attended to the patients of his division ; also of Dr. 
Underwood, who most assiduously day and night 
sought to relieve all. The severity of his labors, the 
heavy pressure on his nervous energies, brought him 
down nearly to the gates of death ; but I hope that 
long before this, in the bosom of his home, one whose 
27* 



318 VISITING THE HOSPITALS. 

ear was ever open to tlie cry of suffering, and wlio, 
tliougli he staggered and fainted, still persevered in 
his work of mercy, has regained the health which in 
the service of his country he lost. 

After going from group to group, ministering to 
them as my means would permit, uniformly stopping 
for a few moments with the severely wounded and 
praying with the dying, in order to reach other hos- 
pitals I was compelled to leave Brackett's house. 
Proceeding along the jN'ew Market road, I came to 
the E'elson house, a short distance to the left. At 
this hospital there were lying ahout 200 patients. 
The surgeons were Dr. Skelton and Dr. Rohinson. 
Many of the patients were very hadly wounded : 
they were amongst the worst cases gathered in from 
the field. They were generally from New York reg- 
iments in General Hooker's division, and had been 
warmly engaged in the contest of Monday afternoon. 
At this hospital were lying Captain Bagley, of Pitts- 
burg; Lieutenant-colonel Woodward, of Philadelphia; 
Captain Peed and his son, of the 20th Indiana, and 
many others. I left with the surgeons here the re- 
mainder of my supplies, and went with Dr. Skelton 
over the ground of the battle of Glendale. One 
mile and a half to the left, in the direction of the 
Chickahominy, we came to the Gatewood house. 
In this were lying some of the wounded of Slocum's 
division ; the injuries they had endured were from 
shells and grape. Amongst these were Captain D. 
A. Moore, Captain Demming, and Captain W. H. 
Spencer, 61st l^ew York. All three were severely 
wounded, but bore their sufferings with Christian 
fortitude ; and I was much rejoiced to find that they 



soldiers' graves. 319 

were sustained by faith in God. If these officers, in 
their culture, manners, and gentlemanly bearing, rep- 
resented their regiments, they were associated with 
very superior men. Captain Moore was, I learned, 
a professor in some college; Captain Demming, a 
successful and popular lawyer. There was no sur- 
geon with the forty or fifty wounded lying in this 
house. Dr. Skelton visited them twice a day. They 
had but little food, and only three nurses. There is 
scarcely anything in the world more trying than 
under circumstances like these to bid such noble men 
farewell, and leave them alone in their sufierings. I 
could see but few graves in this portion of the bat- 
tle-field ; here and there we came on a heap of fresh 
earth, which covered some soldier in the place where 
he fell ; and on the edge of the forest we saw the 
spots to which the wounded had been borne from 
the sun for shelter, and here had breathed their last, 
and the hand of some fellow-soldier had cut the name 
and regiment on the bark of the nearest tree. 

From here we rode across the fields to the other 
extreme of the battle-ground, passing over the ground 
occupied by Sumner, Hooker, McCall, and Kearney. 
After riding about a mile to the west of the Nelson 
house, we came on the ground where General Mc- 
Call's division had been posted at the commence- 
ment of the action. This field over its entire extent 
was covered with the mounds which marked the 
spots wdiere our brave men had fallen. Extended 
over a portion of the field was the breastwork of 
rails they had hastily constructed, and along this 
there were many dead. I saw no one unburied. In 
this field was a farm-house surrounded by apple and 



320 VIEW OP A BATTLE-FIELD. 

peacli trees ; under these had been buried a consid- 
erable number of our soldiers. Dr. Donnelly was 
in charge of the wounded lying in the house. I did 
not remain long at this hospital on my first visit, for 
I wished to ascertain their wants, and return with 
supplies on the morrow. 

We then rode to the scene of the severest fight- 
ing, on the edge of the forest, near to the New Mar- 
ket road. In the space of a few yards we counted 
forty dead horses, and the carcasses of many more 
were lying where the batteries had stood during the 
action, and the forest in the rear bore witness to the 
destructive power of the enginery which had been 
at work here. This was the scene of that twilight 
struggle which I have described in a previous 
chapter. 

We now crossed the Kew Market road and en- 
tered the field which had been occupied by Kear- 
ney's men during the action. This field gradually 
declines from the road to the forest on the right, and 
after proceeding two or three hundred feet in the 
woods there is a swamp : our lines extended across 
this field to the slough. In the field, about one hun- 
dred yards from the road, stands a house occupied 
by a negro family. In this house and the outhouses 
around it were many of our wounded men, under 
the care of Dr. Collins. The garden was inclosed 
with a picket fence, nearly every strip of which bore 
witness to the severity of the battle. Balls of all 
descriptions had torn through the house. It was a 
point of great importance during the conflict, and 
therefore so perseveringly sought on the one side, 
and defended with such determination on the other. 



A negro's narrative. 321 

The members of the family had returned, and had 
been unceasingly kind to our wounded men. These 
.were all, I believe, of General Kearney's division. 
They were entirely destitute of food, and had been 
sustained for several days on corn-meal gruel. The 
negro man described to me the battle, as he had 
witnessed it. He was an intelligent and sober- 
minded man. When he saw our troops march up 
the road and take position across his field, he had 
no thought that a place so quiet was to be the scene 
of a battle ; he had heard nothing of the Confeder- 
ates coming down from Richmond. 

He and his family had gone out to look on the 
brilliant spectacle, but did not know what it meant ; 
the banners were flying, the batteries were wheeling 
into position, and troops of cavalry were drawn up 
on the edge of the woods. "While they were admiring 
the gay pageant, and contrasting the fine appearance 
of our troops with the Confederate soldiers they had 
seen, and full of wonder asking each other what all 
this could mean, an ofiicer, he supposed General 
Kearney, rode over the field and told him to remove 
his family instantly, for in less than ten minutes 
there would be a battle, and his house be in the 
centre of it. 

His wife and children ran in, seized each one some 
garment, and started across the field in the direction 
of the Quaker E-oad ; they had reached the forest, 
and were skirting along the woods, "when there 
was a dreadful crash, as if the sky had fallen and all 
the thunders I ever heard had been rolled into one." 
At first they all screamed, fell to the ground and 
called on the Lord for mercy, and hid their faces in the 



322 WILLIAM DAVIS. 

leaves ; but as the branclies of the trees around and 
above them were cut and falling, he called on his 
family to follow him, and running a few steps he 
had to return and carry in his arms one of his 
children, that appeared to be struck with a palsy of 
fear. They all escaped : a sister-in-law had refu'sed 
to leave, and when the first shell struck the house 
fied to the cellar, but, said the man, "her hair turned 
grey." From the neighborhood of this house the 
Confederates had removed all their dead. 

In one of these outhouses was lying a young man 
from Pittsburg, William Davis, the son of James 
Davis, Esq., deceased. In the course of two days 
he was brought to Savage Station, thence taken to 
Richmond, then returned to the Station, and with 
the other prisoners removed to James River, and 
thence to Baltimore, where he lingered and finally 
died in January, 1863. He was an excellent soldier, 
a good Christian, and most afiectionate son. His 
stricken mother has been twice honored in the 
privilege of giving two sons to her country. 

The shadows of evening were falling over the 
fields when I turned my horse towards Savage 
Station. I had about ten miles to ride, and most 
of the way through the encampments^of the Con- 
federates. 

From the Brackett house I was entirely alone. I 
had to ride very slowly, for my poor horse was very 
tired, and had been all day without food. I can 
never forget that night's ride through the fields of 
battle. Until I came to the White Oak Swamp I 
had frequent greetings from the officers and soldiers 
whose camps I was passing, and was often asked to 



A SOLITARY RIDE. 323 

Btop and spend the night. I thanked them, but told 
them I must go that night to Savage Station for 
medicines and supplies. 

N'o sentinel challenged me. When I passed the 
swamp I was alone. The dark woods were silent as 
a cemetery ; by the side of the road every few rods 
was the body of some poor soldier, who, wounded, 
had fallen by the way and died alone, and with no 
other covering than his overcoat and blanket he 
slept as sweetly as if buried in the sepulchre of his 
fathers, and certainly with more honor. 

The road was covered and in many places nearly 
obstructed by broken wagons, ambulances, and dead 
horses and shattered trees. The moon, nearly at 
its full, threw over the dark forests and lonely fields 
a robe of silver, and her rays stole down through 
the pines, and here and there threw her quiet light 
on the way, and it was not difficult to fill up the 
scene with spirits clothed in white flitting from spot 
to spot. 

The great owl hooting amongst the trees, and the 
whippoorwill singing on a grave, were the only living 
creatures to speak to me and keep me company. 
When I passed through one of those dismal forests 
and entered a field equally tenantless, the deserted 
house, surrounded with the mounds of the dead, 
was quite as oppressive. I had seen all those 
ruins and wrecks of war in the glare of the sun, but 
now, as viewed in the tremulous light of the moon, 
they wore another aspect, and strange and spectre- 
like were a thousand objects which started up be- 
fore me. 

The trees standing in the deserted fields looked 



324 NEGRO REFUGEES. 

as if clothed in flowers, and the wild rose blooming 
on the roadside shed its fragrance over the dead. 
ITot the sound of the foot of an animal, not a single 
ray flickering from the window of a house, not a 
human being or voice, relieved the gloom of that 
valley of death. Here and there were deserted 
garments hanging from the branches of the trees, 
looking so much like men suspended between heaven 
and earth that I approached them with a shudder. 

For miles I was entirely alone, and passing through 
the former encampments of General Keyes and 
General Kearney, I reached the forests on the 
Chickahominy. I resolved to find my way to Meadow 
Station and Carter house hospital through the woods 
along a dim path which I had travelled before. I 
succeeded in threading my way through the laby- 
rinth of bush and vine, and in one of the darkest 
portions of the path, on a sudden turn, two powerful 
negro men stood before me. Fortunately they were 
more frightened than I was ; they sprang into the 
bushes, and I heard the click of cocking pistols : I 
said, '' Good night, boys, don't be afraid of me — am 
I near to the mill on Meadow Creek ? " "With a wise 
caution they still stood on their guard, but replied, 
"Yes, massa, you come to him soon." I thanked 
them, gave my horse the spurs, and quickened him 
into a gallop, and did not feel altogether comfortable 
until beyond shot. I then supposed that these were 
refugee contrabands of the neighborhood, who had 
stolen out from their hiding-place for forage, or to 
find their way to a safer retreat. 

At length I reached the mill on the creek ; there 
was a large, deep mill-race to be crossed on a bridge. 



A NARROW ESCAPE. 825 

I spurred my horse on to this, but when he had gone 
one or two steps, no urging nor spurring could 
induce him to advance an inch. I felt assured there 
must be some unusual cause for this stubborn rigidity 
of the animal. I thought of Balaam and his ass, 
and alighted to reconnoitre. To my surprise I found 
all the bridge but the first few logs gone, and a 
single step more would have carried horse and rider 
into almost certain death. I patted the horse by 
way of making an apology for scolding and spurring 
him. I then rode back to the mill ; I saw a light 
shining through its cracks, and shouted aloud, but 
no one answered ; I called again, but still no reply. 
They supposed I was a Confederate officer looking 
after stragglers. I called again : " Can you tell me ^ 
how to cross the mill-dam? " Instantly the voice of 
a Southern soldier answered and gave me the proper 
direction. I followed his advice, and about one 
o'clock in the morning reached the hospital, and 
found, to my relief, that no one had died during 
the day. 



28 



326 DIVINE SERVICE. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Sabbath, July 6tL 

Return to the Hospitals in the Battle-fields — Captain Reed and 
his son William — Visit from the Rev. Mr. Moore, of Richmond 
— The Dead Soldiers — The Hospital in the Willis Church — 
Dr. Marsh — Visit to the Hospital of Dr. Donnelly — Adjutant 
0. H. Gaither — Conversation with an Irish officer. 

The morning bronglit up from the east one of 
those suns whose very first rays are spears of fire, 
and at the very moment of his rising the whole 
world, enveloped in a robe of flame, is melting in 
his heat. Very early I assembled all the nurses of 
the hospital, and the sick who were able to come 
out, to a morning service. Read the Scriptures, 
spoke of the lessons suggested by the morning and 
our circumstances. We sang a hymn, and I prayed 
with them. I then prescribed for the sick, and told 
them of my purpose to be absent for two days, but 
I would request Dr. Swinburne to visit them during 
this time. I then went to see the patients at Meadow 
Station, made the best arrangements for them possi- 
ble, and provided for supplies of food and medicines. 

I resolved to take with me our hospital steward, 
Mr. Luke, of the 105th Pennsylvania, whom I had 
found to be very skilful in dressing wounds, and 
willing to do the utmost for the relief of the suffer- 



w 
>■ 

H 
H 

r< 

o 

o 
w 

I 

o 

o 



S3 
O 

W 



a 




I 






RETURN TO THE HOSPITALS. 327 

ing. We obtained supplies from Mr. Brunot and 
Mr. Reed. It may not be uninteresting to record 
the articles wbicb were borne out to the hospitals : — 
I make the extract from my diary, for some of those 
articles may suggest to those whose charity dropped 
upon us as the dew of blessing, what use was made 
of their gifts. 

" Left Savage Station, both horses heavily laden, 
about ten a. m., bearing for the use of hospitals in the 
field, turpentine, whisky, wine, chloroform, quinine, 
opium, laudanum, morphia, Sellers's pills, dried 
apples, desiccated potatoes, crackers, toasted bread, 
dried meat, prunes, coifee, tea, cocoa, corn-starch, 
soap, drawers, bed-sacks, shirts, napkins, pepper, 
salt, mustard, bandages, lint, paper, and ink." 

The heat on this day was even more oppressive 
than on previous days ; and as in former excursions, 
we met a great throng of Jackson's men retiring 
towards Richmond. They had the appearance of 
being in the last stage of exhaustion, and I have no 
doubt that a multitude of them died from this cause 
alone. But at the same time we passed several 
regiments of Alabamians going towards James River. 
It was evident there was then some not fully matured 
plan for attacking us in our new position. 

We reached the Brackett house hospital, and re- 
mained there for an hour. I held a short religious 
service in the open grounds under the shadow of 
the great tree, and there were gathered around me 
the wounded and the sick of our army, and many 
Confederate soldiers, and all listened with evident 
satisfaction to the words of life. 

I found that many of our men were approaching 



828 CAPTAIN REED. 

their end, and the nurses in charge of such came 
to me and entreated that I would delay long enough 
to talk with and pray for them before they died. A 
father besought that I would go and see his son, and 
tell him what he felt unable to say. A brother came 
to me and told me with tears that his dear brother 
was fast sinking, and if I would only speak to him, 
probably when he knew that a minister talked to 
him he would arouse to answer, and leave some 
word of comfort. With such and many similar re- 
quests I endeavored to comply, and stood and knelt 
beside them. The work to be done here by a 
chaplain was so great and blessed that I felt the 
deepest regret when I had to leave them. I was 
sorry to find to-day that my friend. Dr. Underwood, 
was so unwell as to be much of the time confined 
to his room and bed. 

The first articles of food which the wounded had 
received from the Confederate authorities was on 
the previous day, and then only a little flour and 
side bacon. This they had in various ways prepared 
to prevent starvation. And many of our wounded 
were actually dying for the want of food ; for, as 
the consequence of the absence of suitable nourish- 
ment, the sloughing of their wounds was greatly 
increased, and the tendencies to fever and gangrene 
could not be arrested. 

Amongst the ofiieers lying here was Captain A. 
Reed, of the 20th Indiana. He was wounded through 
both shoulders. His company had been detailed as 
skirmishers, and were so near to the enemy's line of 
battle in the slashings and heavy thickets before he 
became aware of their presence, that escape was im- 



' CAPTAIN REED. 329 

possible, and for six hours the company remained 
crouched on their faces, exposed to the direct and 
cross fire of both lines. As the cloud of smoke in- 
creased their position became safer, and though 
nearly all wounded they were able to fire with deadly 
precision on the foe. Seven color-bearers of the 
enemy fell by one hand. 

Captain Reed was accompanied by a noble, beau- 
tiful boy of sixteen years of age, who had been taken 
from college at his own importunate entreaties, to 
follow his father ; and though commissary-sergeant, 
he could not be prevented from attending the cap- 
tain to the field of action. Soon after the battle had 
commenced he heard his son exclaim : "Father, I am 
shot, I am badly hurt." The captain ran to him and 
lifted him up, saying, " My poor boy ! " 

He found that he was struck through the bowels, 
and concluded in a moment that the wound was 
mortal. For an instant he was unmanned. William 
rallied soon, smiled, and said: "Father, leave me; 
take care of the men." The captain placed a few 
leaves and a coat under his head and returned to his 
post. Soon the father was struck twice and lay dis- 
abled, but still directing the fire of the few men by 
his side. "When the battle closed after night they 
found themselves within thirty feet of the enemy's 
lines. One of the wounded men went forward and 
made known that ten or more of our wounded were 
lying in the clump of bushes near them. Some of 
the Confederate soldiers came foi-ward and helped 
them to rise. The captain surrendered his sword 
to Colonel Gorman, of the 14th South Carolina. 
This the colonel generously returned, and with his 
28* 



380 KEV. MR. MOORE. 

own hand replaced it in the sash of the captain. 
After remaining' for five days in a negro hut, the 
father and son were taken to iTelson's house and 
placed under the care of Dr. Skelton. 

While lying without food or any medical attend 
ance in this hut, they were visited by a party of gen- 
tlemen from Richmond. Amongst these was the 
Rev. Mr. Moore, pastor of the most influential Pres- 
byterian church in that place. When Mr. Moore 
saw William lying with the sufferers, he exclaimed : 
"I declare, here is a fine blue-eyed boy amongst the 
wounded Yankees. Why did you come from your 
father and mother and school to murder us, burn 
our houses, and destroy our cities?" 

"Stop, sir," said the captain, "that is my son; I 
brought him ; the fault is mine if any one's, and 
mine must be the punishment. I think it cruel in 
you to come and insult us, and instead of bringing 
us relief adding to the misery of our condition. You 
know we are in no state to answer you." 

" Sir," said Mr. Moore, "I beg your pardon;" and 
left the cabin. 

The Rev. Mr. Moore is a Pennsylvanian, born near 
Huntingdon, and was educated by a ladies' educa- 
tional society ; and after finishing his preparation for 
the ministry was invited to Richmond. Here he dis- 
tinguished himself by the most bitter denunciations 
of the ISTorth and her free institutions, and literally 
forgot his people and his father's house. Some of 
his relatives were amongst our wounded men in 
Richmond ; but I never heard of his visiting one of 
the hospitals where were lying many of the sons 



WILLIAM REED. 331 

and grandsons of those ladies who were his bene- 
factors. 

William Reed bore his sufferings with the greates* 
patience : he was far more anxious for his father than 
for himself. Thej were lying together in an upper 
room in one of the houses at iN'elson's place. On the 
Sabbath when I saw them there was reason to hope 
that both might sur^dve their injuries. "William was 
in excellent spirits, and was trying to comfort his 
father by pictures of home, and their joy when his 
mother would dress and bandage their wounds. 

During the night several dead men had been borne 
to the green plot west of the house, and on the fol- 
lowing morning there were ten or more lying side 
by side. The dew had fallen heavily on their face^, 
and in the light of the rising sun glittered on their 
brows like gems. William, seated at the window , 
looked down upon them and said : " Father, the 
sweetest tears that heaven sheds are the dews that 
fall on a dead soldier's face." With a nature so rich 
and gifted, what a blessing might this noble young 
man have been to his parents and country ! but after 
living fourteen days, he died in the Libby Prison. I 
reached the room in which he lay just in season to 
commend his spirit to God — one of the most precious 
offerings laid on the altar of our country. 

I next rode to Nelson's house, and found the place 
surrounded with troops of the Confederacy. 

There were very few complaints amongst our men 
of any insult, ofience, or wrong done to them by 
these men ; on the other hand, they mentioned with 
gratitude many acts of kindness. There was a troop 
of cavalry in the field near at hand. It was com- 



332 A SHREWD THIEF. 

posed of Texans : they were savage-looking men, 
with long uncombed hair, nearly as dark as Indians, 
and the face covered with enormous beards ; they 
certainly looked more like Bashi-Bazouks than 
Anglo-Americans. 

There was a great deal of thieving around this 
hospital. The horses of the surgeons had been 
stolen, also their saddles and bridles ; their tents 
were entered, and everything, even to castor oil, was 
mysteriously filched away. Much of this we have 
reason to fear was done by our own soldiers, and the 
things sold to Confederate officers. On the previous 
day Lieutenant Lowell, of Massachusetts, had died : 
he was kno\\m to have had in his possession one hun- 
dred and fifty dollars, a gold watch, and other valuable 
articles, which all disappeared ; and though a rigid ex- 
amination was instituted, the veil was not lifted. His 
servant had the reputation of a "fool," but certainly 
was one of the shrewdest blockheads I ever saw : he 
had tears of grief over the death of the lieutenant, the 
photographs of his mother and sisters, which he bore 
in his breast, protestations of indignant innocence, 
letters of character, scratches of briers or bullets re- 
ceived in the service of his master, an empty purse, 
a shoeless foot, all to parade as the proof that he 
could not commit such a crime. I do not believe 
that even a ]!Tew York criminal lawyer could have 
wrung the story out of the fellow. 

I cannot now distinctly enumerate the interesting 
conversations I held at this time with officers and 
soldiers from various States. For many I had let- 
ters to write, assuring their friends of their life. In 
other cases, memoranda in regard to property were 



CAPTAIN ADAMS. 33 



Q 



committed to me. Some of these letters were most 
touching and instructive. The letters of husbands 
to their wives, describing the scenes, dangers, and 
struggles of the battles, the nature of their wounds, 
the hopes of return, etc. ; of sons to their mothers, 
full of affectionate remembrances and thanks for the 
years of faithful, patient, loving care. 

There were several cases of the deepest interest : 
one man confessing a sin which now hung like a dark 
veil on his soul, that as often as he besought forgive- 
ness a cloud arose between him and God. Poor fellow I 
often did I go to him, and with closed eyes, uncon- 
scious of my presence, he was confessing his sin and 
praying for mercy. Amongst the wounded here 
was Captain Adams, of Sharon, Pa., whose case was 
almost miraculous. He had been struck by a ball 
about one inch above the heart, which passed through 
the body, and yet in a few days he was able to walk 
around, and was free from pain. 

During this day I visited the hospital under the 
care of Dr. Marsh, of Honesdale, Pa., then the sur- 
geon of the 4th Pennsylvania Cavalry. This was 
about three-fourths of a mile from the ISTelson house, 
in the forest. The hospital was in Willis's Church, 
on the Quaker road. There were about one hundred 
wounded men lying in and around it : until I came, 
there had been brought to them no supplies of any 
kind. For four days they were without bread, and 
though the doctor made known their distressing 
condition to General Lee, General Jackson, and other 
officers of the Confederate Army, nothing was sent 
them until the evening of the fourth day, when came 
two hundred crackers and one hundred and fifty 



384 WOUNDED SUFFERING FOR FOOD. 

pounds of fat bacon sides. With this the doctor and 
the nurses created such food as was possible. On 
the following day they received two barrels of flour, 
but the}^ were without cooking utensils of any kind, 
and had to roll the flour into small cakes and roast 
them in the fire on the end of a stick. This was the 
food on which the wounded were living when I first 
came to the hospital. 

Dr. Marsh, like a true patriot and generous-hearted 
man as he is, shed tears as he described to me the 
suff'erings of these miserable days. He said noth- 
ing so much distressed him as the ceaseless cry for 
bread, coming from those who were evidently dying 
from exhaustion and hunger; and that in several 
instances, those who might have recovered perished 
for want of nourishment. The demands of the first 
day exhausted all the medical stores he possessed, 
and from that time all he could do was to wash and 
bandage wounds, and break and distribute to twenty 
mouths the solitary cracker found in the haversack 
of a dead soldier. The wounded men of this hos- 
pital were mostly E"ew York troops, of General 
Sumner's corps. Near to the pulpit was lying on 
the floor a dead officer : he had just departed. Under 
his hand was a pocket Bible ; I gently lifted up the 
hand and removed the book, that if possible I might 
find his name. On the front leaf was written : " Ser- 
geant Joel Chesten, 3d Pa. Reserves." 

" Sir," spoke to me a soldier lying by the side of 
the dead man, "be so good as to leave the book, for 
the print is plainer than in my Testament, and I can 
sometimes read a few words." 

" I had no intention of taking it, my friend ; I only 



SERGEANT PRICE. 335 

wished to learn the name of our dead brother. I am 
glad jou wish to have the book ; I know its words 
and promises can give you the most precious balm 
in this hour." 

"Yes, sir," he replied; "I know it to be true; 
the man who is lying by me read the Bible aloud as 
long as he was able, and when he could no longer 
hold it up nor see the words, then I read. We prayed 
together, and during the long nights we encouraged 
and comforted each other by repeating hymns and 
passages of the blessed book. The sergeant was a 
good man, and died in perfect peace; he entered into 
rest only a few hours before me. Come, Lord Jesus ; 
come quickly." 

I then asked him if the hope he had as a Christian 
was long standing or recent. 

"Six years ago," said he, "I first confessed my 
Lord, and since then I have tried to sei-ve Him, but 
now I find He is far more precious to me than ever ; 
before, I had to go to Him, but now He comes to me 
and places my head on His bosom. I shall soon see 
Him, for I know that my Redeemer liveth." 

I found on inquiry that his name was John A. 
Price, Sergeant 3d Pennsylvania Reserves. He was 
evidently near his end, and I afterwards learned from 
the doctor he died the evening of that day. Stand- 
ing by, I commended him in prayer to the care of the 
blessed Redeemer, and felt more deeply than ever in 
the past how precious was that Gospel "which robs 
death of its sting and the grave of its victory." "When 
I bade him farewell the open Bible of his friend was 
lying on his bosom. 

I next visited the hospital under the care of Dr. 



836 ADJUTANT GAITHER. 

Donnelly; this was in a farm-house, near to the 
J^ew Market road ; in the open fields about it was 
fought the severest part of the battle of Glendale ; 
hundreds of s^raves or mounds of the dead were scat- 
tered over these fields. The fruit-trees were shat- 
tered and the branches torn and twisted as by a tor- 
nado ; each of the houses which formed the cluster 
had been the scene of a conflict. 

The house was surrounded by many Confederate 
soldiers, who were talking with our wounded men. 
The first person I saw was Adjutant 0. H. Gaither, 
of Bedford, Pennsylvania, son of Samuel. Gaither, 
of Somerset, Pennsylvania. He was lying on a small 
cot-bedstead, wounded in the right breast, the ball 
passing out near the spine. He breathed with con- 
siderable difficulty. I was greatly impressed with 
the remarkable beauty and nobleness of his face ; his 
eye had the piercing light which I have often seen 
in the look of the wounded. By his side sat a Con- 
federate officer fanning him. The room was full of 
wounded men, several of them cases of amputation. 

''What do you think," said he, "doctor, of my 
case ? Is it possible for me to recover ? " 

"You may ; but your position is very critical, and 
the heat, the absence of all comforts, and want of 
suitable food, increase the danger. You are in the 
hands of God; He only can heal and save from 
death." 

" Sir," said he, looking intently into my face, "are 
jiou a clergyman ? " I assured him I was. " Then," 
said he, "you are not one of our men; you don't 
belong to the Union Army." 

I told him I was a chaplain of a Pennsylvania 



ADJUTANT GAITHER. 837 

regiment. Instantly Ms eyes filled witli tears, a^d 
he said : 

^' This is the answer of my prayer ; I entreated 
God to send to us some minister to talk with us and 
pray for us, and now you have come as by a miracle. 
How did you get here ? " 

I told him, from Savage Station ; that I had re- 
mained and been taken prisoner, in order that I 
might be able to do this yery work. He grasped my 
hand and had a seat brought for me and said : 

"Il^J'ow I want you to tell me of the blessed Jesus. 
"W"e want to hear of the sinner's friend." 

The poor sufferers around ceased their groaning ; 
those who were able arose on their elbows and 
listened, while I spoke of the acts, words, and prom- 
ises of the Redeemer. These blessed truths fell 
like balm upon many hearts, and even the Confeder- 
ate ofiicers shed tears. We sang together one of 
our hymns, and we prayed with each other. It was 
a most affecting scene. 

The adjutant then told me that for years he had 
been a professed follower of Christ, but that lately 
he had been very much occupied with his military 
duties, and had not those opportunities for retire- 
ment and prayer essential for spiritual strength. But 
he had never departed from his God, and now as a 
sinner he clung as his only hope to the promises of 
the Gospel ; and that during all the time he had 
been lying here the words of the Saviour had been 
to him more precious than water in the desert ; and 
he wished to bear testimony to the goodness of God 
to himself. He never felt so fully assured before of 
the divinity and absolute truth of revelation. In his 
29 



838 ADJUTANT GAITHER. 

darkness and suffering tlie Saviour had visited him 
and said: "Son, be of good comfort; I will never 
leave thee nor forsake thee." He wished me, if I 
never saw him again, to convey to his father and 
mother his dying blessing : he thanked them for all 
the patience of their parental love, for all the lessons 
they had taught him, for all the prayers they had 
poured forth for him, and asked their forgiveness for 
whatsoever sorrow he might have occasioned them 
by thoughtlessness, or neglect of their desires and 
counsels; that he never felt for them such deep 
affection as now, and he would wait for them at the 
gate of heaven. And to his brothers he sent his 
dying love, and would urge them to make early 
choice of the Gospel, and live by faith in the Son of 
God. 

All listened with the deepest interest and emotion 
to these words of the young officer. I had rarely 
seen one more gifted in face and speech, and my 
desire was strong that his life might be saved. 

The Confederate officer, to relieve the solemnity 
of the scene somewhat, remarked "that the adju- 
tant and himself would meet in better times ; that 
he would have the privilege of entertaining Lieuten- 
ant Gaither and myself at his table in New Orleans, 
and showing us that he was a Christian and a gen- 
tleman, though a tiger." His language betrayed 
that he was not a native American, but an Irish- 
man. In a few moments he alluded to the land of 
his birth, and said that we might think strange that 
he, an Irishman, should be fighting against us. He 
then told us that his father had left Eathmelton, 
Donegal County, Ireland, many years since, and set- 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 339 

tied in ]^ew Orleans; that his grandmother was still 
alive in the old countiy ; that he remembered Loch 
Swilley and the hills around the old village, and the 
graveyard where his ancestors were asleep. He 
talked with all the freedom and eloquence of an 
Irishman, and, amongst other things, said that he 
did not regret the taking up arms against the ITorth ; 
and when the independence of the Southern Confed- 
eracy was acknowledged, as he had no doubt it 
soon would be, should the war be rekindled his 
sword would be always at her service. In this strug- 
gle she had appealed to arms in order to defend her 
rights, and the people of the South would rather die 
than endure the indignities and wrongs inflicted on 
them durino^ the last few months. 

I said: "Will you be so good as to tell us what 
rights of yours we have invaded ? what wrongs have 
we inflicted on you ? We have given you a country, 
and, by your own account, prosperity. And what 
have we done to justify your drawing your sword 
and leaguing yourself with those who are now en- 
deavoring to overthrow the Government of the 
land?" 

"Well," said he, "I read the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence in my own country, and thought it a noble 
instrument, and still think the same. But every 
principle which the Revolutionary fathers there as- 
serted as justifying an appeal to arms, we gather into 
our declaration, and all the oppressions the fathers 
complained of are ours ; and if they were right, we 
are. My father and mj^self are slaveholders ; much 
of the property we have accumulated since we came 
to this country is in slaves. You wish to rob us of 



810 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 

our servants, and set tliem all free to cut our throats. 
Ought not a man to defend his property, and shoot 
down the robber that comes to despoil his home and 
take from his children their inheritance ? " 

"Did you ever lose one of your slaves? did the 
United States Government ever seize one of them 
and pronounce him free? did a ISTorthern officer 
ever go to you with an Act of Congress in his hands, 
seize your negroes, and scornfully set aside your 
claim ? did a white man from the N^orth help away 
one of your slaves ? " 

" Well," said he, in reply, "I must confess that we 
never lost any of our blacks. But that is neither 
here nor there ; others did, and our slaves ran away 
from us, and you sheltered and protected them. You 
permitted the organization of societies for the very 
purpose of aiding the escape of our negroes ; you 
permitted meetings to be held in all your towns and 
cities, in which we were abused, and slaveholders 
classed with thieves and murderers ; you passed 
your personal liberty bills, and when we caught our 
negroes in the ITorth you sprang on us writs of 
habeas corpus, flung us from the magistrate to court; 
excited mobs, who hooted us in the street, stoned 
us, created tumults, and in the melee assisted our 
slaves to escape. After all these evidences of hos- 
tility to us and our interests, you ask me what are 
our wrongs !" 

"Yes, my friend," I replied, "I must ask the ques- 
tion again. E'othing short of the greatest oppressions 
and the most grievous and long-continued injuries 
can justify a people taking up arms against the Gov- 
ernment under which they were born. ^ The powers 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 341 

that be are ordained of God.' The laws and institu- 
tions of government are essential for the happiness, 
civilization, and protection of mankind. ]^o slight 
wrong, no transient oppression, will excuse the ap- 
peal to the last resort. The man who takes up arms 
against a good government crucifies the most sacred 
of human interests. By your own statement you had 
suffered no grinding despotism; everything went 
along pretty much as you desired. All the wheels 
of the Government were under your control ; the 
army marched and ships sailed as you ordered. 
Treaties were made, compromises annulled, com- 
pacts broken at your bidding. The entire policy of 
the Government was changed every live or ten years, 
at most, to please you. 

" But when we dared to elect a President who was 
not a Southern man, nor came into office pledged to 
sustain your platform — on the very night that his 
election is announced you commence scraping lint 
in Charleston, and the next day you organize militia 
by companies in New Orleans ; take measures to 
seize the forts and the arsenals, the ships of war, and 
to rob the United States mint and custom-houses, 
and you rush to arms, and openly in the court of 
the world denounce the iN'orth as having violated 
the Constitution of the United States, because once 
in fifty years we dared to elect a President who had 
some sympathy with freedom. That last act of op- 
pression utterly exhausted a patience which has no 
parallel for long suffering and sublime endurance, 
except in the history of the martyrs. That last act 
was so great a wrong that your manhood, your sense 
of justice, your love of liberty, all impelled you to 
29* 



342 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 

rend in pieces a government which, protected and 
blessed all who bore the American name, and con- 
strained you to stop the industrial pursuits of mil- 
lions, crimson all your rivers with blood, stain a 
thousand fields wdth human gore, and consign half 
a million of your countrymen to the graves of battle. 
As for the injury done you by the " personal lib- 
erty bills," have you no laws against kidnappers? 
are there no such scoundrels in the South ? Occa- 
sionally such a villam finds his way E^orth, and 
hatches up a claim against some poor negro who 
was born free or emancipated by his owner, and ob- 
tains the aid or connivance of Federal officers in 
hurrying to bondage a man entitled to freedom. To 
protect such persons and to prevent the perpetra- 
tion of such crimes, the personal liberty bills were 
passed. And as for our permitting meetings to be 
held in which you were denounced, it is utterly 
impossible to prevent assemblies where the peo- 
ple shall have perfect freedom of sjDeech on all 
great questions of morals and government. If we 
attempted to strangle liberty of speech, we would 
create the worst despotism the world has ever seen. 
^'But I have been in the habit of thinking that 
everything which is just and right welcomes discus- 
sion and investigation, and only things which are 
evil seek the darkness. It strikes me that a people 
so free of speech as you are, so unmeasured in your 
denunciations of all you deem mean, are guilty of an 
amazing inconsistency when you demand of us that 
we should create dungeons in the E'orth to be the 
grave of liberty. Our fathers fought for freedom 
of speech, legislation, and action. You have taken 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 343 

up arms, according to your own confession, in the 
first place, to perpetuate in perfect security the bon- 
dage of your fellow-men whom you hold as slaves. 
In the second place, to imprison and banish from our 
country all who dare to hint that slavery is not a 
' Divine institution,' and may have connected with 
it abuses and oppressions. In the third place, to 
compel us to expunge from the statute books of our 
States every law which would secure justice to a 
negro. 

"Do you not see that our fathers struggled for free- 
dom, but you for slavery ? They did so because they 
believed that all men had certain inalienable rights, 
' the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness ; ' you 
for power and the rights of property in man. They 
took up arms to destroy Bastiles and dungeons ; you 
to create them. They to defend the rights and aid 
the oppressed ; you to extinguish forever the ina- 
lienable rights of millions. They fought to secure for 
themselves and their children the blessings of a free 
government ; you to extend the dominion of slavery, 
and to destroy in all our States freedom of speech 
and legislation. Is it not a great outrage on lan- 
guage to call yourselves the ' soldiers of freedom/ 
and your dead the 'martyrs of liberty?' " 

But as our excited and earnest conversation might 
disturb and injure the wounded men in the room, I 
proposed that we should continue our discussion iii 
the open air. 

''' Before you go," said Adjutant Gaither, "let me 
say to our friend that we in the ^N'orth did not take 
up arms to subjugate the South, but to defend the 
Constitution and to vindicate our insulted laws. We 



844 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 

did not wish to deprive the people of the South of 
one right which they had under the Constitution, 
but we felt bound, by every principle of duty and 
honor, to sustain our Government in her efforts to 
maintain her rightful authority. For my own part, 
I do not know that I shall ever rise from this cot ; 
but if I die, I have no regrets or misgivings. I 
left my profession and entered the army as a pri- 
vate soldier, because I felt that when my country 
needed me I could not remain at home without dis- 
grace. I know that we had no desire to trample 
upon the South, or to inflict any injury upon her 
people, but we were compelled, by the strongest sense 
of duty to God and man, to defend the most sacred 
of trusts, and our cause never appeared to me more 
worthy the sacrifice of my life than now." 

I was rejoiced to hear this testimony from the lips 
of the adjutant, speaking as he did with great diffi- 
culty, often panting for breath : his words were most 
impressive, and listened to as the last utterances of 
one who had given his life for the cause he was de- 
fending. The Confederate officer and myself went 
out and stood under the shade of a large apple tree, 
which cast acoolingshadowoverthespacebetween the 
main house and the kitchen. Around us, within ten 
feet of the door, were many mounds, the last rest- 
ing-places of our dead. Several of our wounded had 
dragged themselves to the shadow of this tree, and 
to others near at hand, and were sitting and lying in 
every conceivable posture around the trees. Many 
Confederate soldiers, mostly of the "Louisiana Ti- 
gers," were seated among our men smoking and 
talking. Nearly all these men belonged to the class 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 345 

known at the South as the ''poor whites." When 
we had advanced within their circle the Confederate 
officer again addressed me, saying : 

" Doctor, you do not understand us : we had come 
to the conchision that the government of this country 
was to be administered for the benefit of the ^orth, 
and moreover we were sick and tired to death of the 
perpetual noise you were making over slavery. We 
could not go ^orth without being insulted, and hear- 
ing ourselves abused in your churches, and seeing 
the most infamous things said of us in your papers. 
These annoyances, insults, and wrongs drove us to 
such a state that we no longer wished to live under the 
same Government with you. And surely, when such 
was the state of feeling in the South, it was best for 
us to go off and set up for ourselves, and separate as 
Abraham from Lot : we did not want to go to war, 
but we did want to be let alone. And all we demand 
now is for you to permit us to work out our own 
future, make our own laws, and do as we please with 
our own property. What can you hope to gain by 
this war? If you conquer us, you can never be se- 
cure everywhere in the Confederacy until you have 
killed the last white man, and turned the land into 
a desert. Even after you have wasted and destroyed 
us, what have you gained ? I^othing to compensate 
for a long war, a great public debt, and the death 
of half a million of your sons and brothers." 

To this I replied: " There were undoubtedly many 
citizens of the I^orth perfectly willing that you 
should be permitted to separate yourselves from the 
United States, and start a Confederacy of your own. 
We were so fully convinced of the essential barbarism 



346 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 

of the South, that we had lost all desire to continue 
a union with such a people. We saw plainly, too, 
that there was such an irreconcilable hostility be- 
tween your institutions and our own, that we could 
not live together in peace, and we were prepared to 
listen to any proposition for a peaceful division of 
the Union. But instead of this you seized the forts, 
arsenals, ships, and arms of the United States Gov- 
ernment. You tore down the time-honored flag of 
the country, and drove out of the South all loyal 
officers and patriots. Like the assassin, you rushed 
upon us with drawn knife, giving no option but to fight 
or die ; you fired upon Fort Sumter, held by a small 
garrison of our troops ; and on the night of its fall, 
in a congratulatory address by your Secretary of War, 
your President and Congress being present, it was 
announced that, in less than a month, your troops 
would be in possession of Washington, and that you 
would dictate terms of peace in Philadelphia or I^ew 
York. Your leaders plotted the assassination of 
President Lincoln in Baltimore, and fully intended 
that he should never be permitted to take the oath 
of office. We have the proof that you intended to 
subvert the entire Government and take possession 
of ISTorthern cities, and ' call the roll of your slaves 
at the foot of Bunker Hill.' After all this, when 
the President summoned 75,000 men to defend the 
capital, you sprang upon them unarmed, and mur- 
dered them in the streets. Everywhere, throughout 
the entire South, you rushed to arms, and did every- 
thing you could, by insults, pillage, the murder of 
Union men, and deeds of violence, to hasten and make 
inevitable a conflict. We have the evidence that 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 347 

in more than one Soutliern city you had bands of 
assassins who had sworn to murder President Lin- 
coln and the members of his Cabinet, and then seize 
the reins of Government. One such infamous band 
we know existed in Richmond, who were bound by 
the most horrible oath to proceed to Washington 
for the murder of the President ; and part of that 
conclave of murderers actually made their appear- 
ance in the capital, and were only prevented from 
the accomplishment of their infamous design (April 
5th) by the timely exposure to the Government of 
their presence and plot. How perfectly preposterous 
to talk of peace and an amicable separation, when 
such was your spirit and revolutionary plans ! No, 
while we were saying, 'Let there be no war — let us 
compromise — let us meet in a peace convention, 
and adjust in the spirit of Christ and catholic patriot- 
ism all matters in dispute,' you were rejecting every 
such overture, and steadily and earnestly preparing 
for war, capturing troops in Texas, seizing all the 
property of the General Government and of N'orthern 
citizens, leaving us no alternative but dishonor or 
war : we had no escape but to fight, or yield to you 
as our masters and the future rulers of the country. 
"We know that you were not satisfied with merely 
withdrawing the Southern States from the Union, 
but you had organized in many of our J^orthern 
States associations and clubs of men to co-operate 
with you in overturning all the institutions of the 
country, and endeavoring everywhere to introduce 
a reign of terror. You never intended to go off 
peacefully ; 3^ou grasped at the reins of Government, 
and aimed at the utter subversion of all the princi- 



348 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 

pies of constitutional liberty. Yoii drew the sword, 
and placing it at our breasts, demanded that we 
should yield or die. I will do you the justice to 
say that you had no idea of the consequences of 
your rebellion. You thought we would be terrified, 
and submit without a struggle ; that you could dis- 
mantle the Ship of State, cut down her masts, and 
cast her unmanned into the sea, without a hand being 
lifted to avenge the insult. But, as usual with the 
proud and arrogant, you had no correct estimate of 
the character of the people you despised ; you let 
loose upon the country all the horrors which follow 
in the train of civil war, and now you must take the 
consequences. It is too late now to talk of peaceful 
separation ; that was not in your thoughts when you 
plotted to seize the capital and humble all the 
Free States. We must fight for our homes and 
our children ; and if your cities are burnt, your coun- 
try wasted, your property confiscated, and your 
slaves set free — when more than half your men fall 
in battle, and the remainder are compelled to flee 
the country as traitors, it will be but a righteous 
retribution. On you rests the responsibility of all 
the calamities of the time. And you will appear in 
the presence of God stained with the guilt of innu- 
merable murders. From every grave in this field 
there goes up a cry to heaven against you. 

"And an Irishman, I feel, is especially without 
excuse, — ^you that have filled all Europe and the civ- 
ilized world with your eloquent denunciations of 
tyrants, and come to this country as a refuge from 
the oppression of Great Britain; and yet you are 
here the defender of an oppression such as Europe 




6 



SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 849 

has not seen for a thousand years. For Southern 
men, born slaveholders, and who have been from 
their cradles reared to the exercise of absolute power, 
I have some respect — I appreciate their position. 
But for you I feel naught but contempt : the last 
man on earth I can excuse as the defender of slavery 
is an Irishman. The heroic endurance of your mar- 
tyred ancestors, their solemn leagues and covenants 
signed with their blood, your oft-repeated and most 
eloquent pleadings for freedom, pledge an Irishman, 
more than any other man, to be true to liberty in 
whatever land his lot may be cast. You, like the 
masons of Como in the Middle Ages, who went forth 
over all Europe to rear those noble Gothic temples 
which to-day are the greatest monuments of art and 
genius in the world; you leave Ireland, solemnly 
pledged to all nations to be everywhere the defenders 
of the oppressed, and to rear in all lands the temples 
of human liberty. E'early all your countiymen are 
faithful — more than three-fourths of the dead of our 
army lying over this field are the sons of Irishmen — 
the principles they had been taught by their fathers 
impelled them to arms when liberty was attacked. 
They were true to the pledges of their ancestors, 
and showed themselves worthy of such fathers. But 
what of you ? I have been in the town where you 
were born ; I have preached in the old church where 
your fathers worshipped : I expect to go back again 
to Ireland, and amongst the first things I will do will 
be to find your grandmother, tell her your story, and 
get her to blot your name out of the family Bible as 
false to the vows of your baptism, and unworthy the 
name of an Irishman." 
30 



350 REBEL ANIMOSITY. 

The man quailed, stammered out some' excuse, 
and tried to say that the force of circumstances had 
made him against his will a slaveholder. I found 
on looking around on the throng of Rebel soldiers, 
that the language I had used to the officer excited 
no anger, but rather pleased them. It was probably 
that he was arrogant and severe, and they were 
gratified in seeing his evident mortification : and as 
often before and afterward I took occasion to assure 
them that we had no controversy with them ; that 
if they only knew it, we were fighting their battles 
as well as our own ; that this was a war of the aris- 
tocracy against the principles of republicanism and 
freedom. 

They dared to say but little in reply, but it was 
plain that, dull and ignorant as they were, they felt 
that there was some truth in my words. I discovered 
in them none of that bitterness of language and 
malignity of scowl so often heard in the speech and 
exhibited in the looks of distinguished citizens and 
officers. Indeed, the soldiers of the Confederate 
Army were, when the wounded fell into their hands, 
generally kind and often most humane ; but, with a 
few honorable exceptions, the wealthy citizens of 
Virginia and the officers of the army were without 
pity, and influenced by a hate so intense that the 
most violent language failed to express it. After 
spending three or four hours in this place I bade the 
wounded and dying farewell, never expecting to see 
Lieutenant Gaither a^ain on earth. 

After stopping at various small houses, where were 
lying from twenty to forty of our wounded, I started 
on my return to Savage Station. I was glad to learn 



SCARCITY OF MEDICAL STORES. 351 

at these various small hospitals that Dr. Swinburne 
had visited them, assisted in difficult amputations, 
and brought their condition before the Confederate 
authorities. Many of these poor fellows were left 
in a state of the greatest misery and want. Officers 
from General Lee's army would frequently ride up 
to our large hospitals, such as Brackett's house and 
IS'elson's house, and upbraid our surgeons for per- 
mitting many of our men to remain in those remote 
cabins without food, nurses, or medical attendance. 
But all the medical stores of our surgeons had been 
taken from them or exhausted; of food they had 
none, and they were physically unable to attend to 
those brought to their tents. It was most palpable 
that the Rebel Army was but poorly supplied with 
those sanitary and medical stores which with us were 
deemed so essential. And what they had were dis- 
pensed without method. 



352 NURSES REMOVED TO RICHMOND 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Removal of Mr. Brunot and Volunteer Nurses to Richmond — 
Funeral at Carter's House — ■ Soldier's Conversation with Stone- 
wall Jackson. 

When I readied Savage Station I learned that 
Mr. Brunot, the volunteer nurses who had come from 
Pittsburg, and the Rev. Mr. Reed, were ordered up 
to Richmond. They were already on the cars for 
departure. I had only time to receive from Mr. 
Brunot instructions to take his tent, and dispense his 
stores of medicines and sanitary goods among the 
wounded and destitute. From this time (July 8th) 
until our removal to Richmond, I spent the day at 
Savage Station, returning each evening to the hos- 
pital at Carter's house. 

1^0 one can give the history of those wretched 
days. We were in the midst of the field of battle. 
The air for miles became intolerably offensive. If 
the warm, stagnant atmosphere was stirred for a 
moment by a wind, there was borne to us not a 
breath of sweetness, but an odor so foul that we 
turned sick and shuddered as in a palsy. 

To the hundreds of wounded and suffering men 
who were in all the conditions of human misery, we 
daily and hourly ministered as we could. But in 
consequence of the removal to the Richmond prisona 



SURGEONS DISABLED. 353 

of Mr. Brunot and the corps of volunteer nurses, the 
labor that devolved upon the surgeons and nurses 
who remained was severe and exhausting beyond 
endurance. Several were prostrated with sickness, 
and in a few days one-half of the surgeons were 
unable to attend to any duty whatever. In the mean- 
time our distresses were increased by the taking 
from Savage Station and removal to Richmond of 
all the stores which had been saved in the general 
conflagration. This was done on the pretence that 
all our wounded men were to be immediately re- 
moved and paroled. Our men were thus robbed of 
the articles essential for their recovery, and were 
left without bread, fresh meat, crackers, prepared 
soups, dried fruits, and all those delicacies which 
had been sent to us for such a time. Fortunately I 
had secured, in the retreat of our army, some beeves 
and sheep, which were guarded with the greatest 
care ; and these gave food and soup to the men of 
three hospitals for some days. 

To this Dr. Swinburne alluded in his report to 
Governor Morgan, of i^ew York. He says : "Up to 
this time we had been enabled to furnish ourselves 
with some fresh meat and soups, from some beeves 
which remained in the charge of Rev. Dr. Marks, 
U. S. A., who had charge of a small fever hospital 
about one mile from Savage Station, of about one 
hundred patients, the management of which requires 
some notice ; and though I have not any statistical 
report, I think it the best-managed and disciplined 
\ospital in Virginia. But now the remnants of our 
stock, including instruments, medicines, ice, band- 
ages, lint, etc., having been taken by the Confederate 
30* 



354 SCARCITY OF FOOD. 

Medical Director, under the alleged impression tlaat 
we were to be removed to Richmond and paroled. 

'' But all was gone and our removal delayed, we 
were obliged to depend on the material furnished 
by requisition upon the Confederate government, or 
by purchase with our own funds. Up to this time 
the officers had furnished the principal part of their 
own subsistence by purchase. The rations furnished 
by the Confederates were only flour and poor bacon, 
while food for the sick was very expensive and dif- 
ficult to obtain. The inhabitants were unwilling to 
sell except for gold, and were also instructed from 
Richmond not to sell to the 'Yankees.' It was 
therefore difficult to obtain anything, even at the 
most exorbitant prices. 

"In this dilemma, I wrote to Dr. Guild, M. D. C. S. 
A., our condition and wants, who answered by send- 
ing next morning Dr. Winfield, Medical Inspector 
of Hospital Camps, and accompanying him w^as Colo- 
nel , of General Lee's staff, and sent by him. In 

answer to these gentlemen as to what we were feed- 
ing our patients, I stated that flour and bacon were 
our only food and medicine, and the meat was not 
only limited in supply, but absolutely maggoty. This 
statement was confirmed by Lieutenant Lacy Stew- 
art, commanding post. I referred them to the war- 
worn and exhausted countenances of the patients. 
Wliat little choice stores we had were removed on 
the 15th instant." 

In this statement the doctor speaks of purchasing 
articles of food from the inhabitants of the country. 
I knew of but one farm on which anything could be 
purchased, and this was the place of Mrs. Couch, 



SUFFERINGS FROM HUNGER. 355 

which General McClellan had encircled with guards 
for its protection. The corn, sheep, and cow^s that 
remained were sold to our sick and officers at fabu- 
lous prices. Strawberries one dollar a pint, milk 
one dollar a quart, a lamb ten dollars, a pint of 
blackberries fifty cents, and twenty-five cents for an 
egg, and even at these rates there were but few who 
could obtain anything. In order to meet these de- 
mands on them for food, the officers and surgeons 
sold their watches and clothing. I was obliged to 
sell my own watch, which I valued principally on 
account of its having accompanied me in journeyings 
in other lands, for fifteen dollars in Confederate mo- 
ney, but I had the satisfaction of knowing that it 
purchased many a loaf of bread for those who were 
hungry and destitute of means. 

During those days when the pressure of want was 
constantly increasing, the sufferers were no longer 
in trouble that their wounds should be washed and 
bandaged; but when we entered their tents, one 
hundred hungry faces were turned towards the sur- 
geons, and the cry was "bread ! bread ! " 

Dr. Swinburne did everything in his power to 
obtain supplies of medicine and food, and made re- 
newed appeals, stating that the wounded were dying 
of want; and amongst the surgeons and nurses, 
nearly all were ill with fevers from exhaustion and 
want of proper nourishment; that our medicines 
were entirely expended, and all were in danger of 
perishing ; that the bacon which was sent us would 
be considered anywhere else the most miserable 
offal. 

In j-eply was received ; — Camphor, 1 lb. ; cerate, 



356 DEATHS FROM EXHAUSTION. 

1 lb. ; adhesive plaster, 5 yards; iodine, 1 oz. ; opium, 
J lb. ; tincture of iron, J lb. ; whiskey, 5 galls. ; ban- 
dages, 6 doz. ; lint, 1 lb. These articles were sent 
as the supply, for more than a fortnight, of fifteen 
hundred sick and wounded men. This was but to 
mock our misery, but may have indicated as much 
their poverty as their inhumanity. But we could 
not evade the conclusion that the Confederates had 
no desire for the restoration to health of those whom 
the fortune of war had thrown into their hands. 

In the midst of these distresses our indignation 
was greatly increased against the Rebel government 
by the bringing into Savage Station of one hundred 
wounded men, who had been left on the battle-field 
of Gaines's Mill, on Friday, the 27th of June, and 
from that day until the 16th of July had nothing 
but flour and water. The flour was prepared by the 
surgeons and nurses in every way that they could 
devise to nourish and eke out life. But without 
salt, no effort could make palatable the tasteless 
porridge and half-baked cake. And thus for twenty 
days, within eight miles of Richmond, and their 
condition fully known to the ofiicers of the Con- 
federate army, these wounded and disabled soldiers 
were left to perish of want. 

The sufferings of these men, as described to me by 
Dr. Churchill, of the 4th I^ew York Volunteers, who 
remained with them during all these dismal days, 
were most painful. Many died of hunger and ex- 
haustion, and some of them, when brought to Savage 
Station, lived but a few hours. Dr. Smith, now of 
the convalescent camp near Washington, was at this 
time one of the most active and humane of the sur- 



DR. SMITH. 357 

geons. After those brave and skeleton-like men had 
been brought in and laid down on the grounds near the 
station, he approached a group of them ; they begged 
for bread ; he took out of his haversack four or live 
hard crackers, which he had gathered up to preserve 
himself from starving ; these he gave to them, telling 
them, with tears, that they were the last, and he was 
very sorry that he had nothing more to give. He left 
them, but their wan and haggard faces haunted him. 
He begged a few drops of liquor from a brother sur- 
geon and returned and administered it to them. 

Dr. Smith subsequently met two of these soldiers 
at Fortress Monroe, who spoke to him and reminded 
him of the scene when he gave his last cracker to 
the wounded soldier at Savage Station, and told him 
that they felt sure that cracker and ounce of whisky 
had saved their lives, for from that hour the pulses 
of life began to return to them, and they would never 
forget him. '' The bread cast upon the waters re- 
turned before many days." 

All this time, while our sufferers were perishing for 
food, around Carter's house the fields were covered 
with ripe blackberries, and the w^oods were filled 
with whortleberries, which would have been at 
once food and medicine. But there was no one 
to gather them ; the nurses were already exhausted 
with their labors and hunger combined ; not one 
eould summon strength or courage to go into the 
open field and run the risk of meeting bands of Con- 
federate soldiers who might fire upon him. How- 
ever, the time came when this coveted fruit seemed 
within their reach. 

I had left Savage Station, to attend the funeral of 



358 FUNERAL OF MR. COATES. 

a Mr. Coates, of tlie 57th Pennsylvania, of Tioga 
County, Pennsylvania, who died of typhoid fever. 
We carried the body into the orchard, our custom- 
ary place of interment. All that were able to leave 
the house attended the funeral service, and after 
singing an appropriate hymn we laid the dead soldier 
alongside of many of his departed comrades. "When 
they were assembling it was a most touching sight; 
some hobbling along, others carried in the arms of 
companions scarcely stronger than themselves, all 
coming to show their respect for one who had so 
faithfully nursed them. I took occasion to impress 
upon them that the two great duties of the hour 
were, first, patience, the uncomplaining endurance 
of their sufferings ; second, charity, making the effort 
to do all that was possible for others in a worse con- 
dition, and that rarely in the life of man was there 
such an opportunity to display heroic endurance on 
the one hand and heavenly charity on the other ; 
that we gathered from the sacred Scriptures that 
nothing was more pleasing to God than deeds of 
charity ; that, though they were wounded and stag- 
gering, and had scarce strength even to care for 
themselves, yet they ought to be deeply affected by 
the sufferings of those that had more to endure than 
themselves, and by words and deeds show that they 
were prompted by the spirit of the Gospel, and remem- 
bered Him who pleased not Himself. I then re- 
minded them of how greatly they had been benefited 
lately by the use of the wild fruit which grew so 
abundantly about us, and that the diseases of many 
weeks, which had defied all the usual medical reme- 



THE SICK GATHERING BLACKBERRIES. 359 

dies, had disappeared under tlieir inflnence, and they 
had found tliese better than balms or elixirs. 

At this very hour, at Savage Station, within a mile 
of us, were lying two thousand of our fellow-sol- 
diers, prostrated by wounds and fevers, unable to 
obtain a single one of those luscious berries which 
grew in such profusion under their eyes. They, in 
their feverish longing for that beyond their reach, 
no doubt prayed the blessed God to send down His 
angels to bear to them the fruit which they deemed 
would be almost a life-restorer. Could they not be 
those angels ? Would they not be stronger in con- 
sequence of the endeavor to be benefactors ? I left 
this appeal with their own hearts, reminding them 
that in all probability such another opportunity would 
never come to them, and begging them to remember 
that in the day of God's judgment we should find 
mercy as we had shown mercy. In a few moments 
after the service was concluded, I was delighted to 
see every man who could stagger moving over the 
fields gathering the fruit, not for themselves but for 
others. Every face was lighted with greater satis- 
faction, because engaged in unselfish labors. At 
sundown, when their cups were emptied, more than 
a bushel of berries had been gathered by men who 
were scarcely able to drag themselves from their 
beds. On the following morning this labor of love 
was renewed. Before nine o'clock. Corporal Robert 
Speer and Sergeant Temple, of the 105th Pennsyl- 
vania, brought to my tent at Savage Statioji more 
than three bushels of berries, which had been gath- 
ered by the sick at Carter's house. 

The persons who had brought up these berrieo 



360 VISITS OF CONFEDERATE OFFICERS. 

carried them round to the various tents. Many 
were the expressions of gratitude and many the 
tears. Wlien they entered the tents, the inmates 
hailed them with, " Come here, mister, I '11 buy from 
you!" ''Where did you get them?" "Wliat's 
the price?" And when they were told that they 
had been gathered by sick men for those who 
were in a worse condition than themselves, their 
astonishment was unbounded ; they wondered that 
any one had chanced to think of giving them such 
a treat. Some entreated the donors to take money ; 
others kissed their hands, with every expression of 
gratitude. To some it seemed a painful pleasure, it 
so forcibly brought to mind home and distant friends. 
One poor fellow, as the fruit was handed to him, 
shed tears, and exclaimed, " One year ago I was in 
the mountains gathering berries with my wife and 
children : shall I ever be able to do so again ? " Speer 
and Temple returned to my tent and told me of this 
affecting scene, and thanked me that I had assisted 
to teach that it was more blessed to give than to re- 
ceive. And from this time until our removal to 
Richmond, all the sick and wounded who were able 
to crawl into the fields at Carter's house daily found 
recreation and delight in gathering fruit for the 
wounded sufferers at Savage Station. 

During the days that intervened between our cap 
tivity and removal to Richmond, we had frequent 
visits from some of the most distinguished Con- 
federate officers. In their excursions from their 
camps to Richmond they would often gratify their 
curiosity by stopping an hour at our hospitals. 
Amongst the most noted of these visitors was Stone- 



£?- 1, ■^'^■'fi''. 




STONEWALL JACKSON. 361 

wall Jackson. I had heard of him as alighting at 
several hospitals near the James river. On*one of 
these occasions, when the general had ridden into 
the grounds in front of the hospital, one of our 
wounded soldiers, a man who would stand una- 
bashed in the presence of Queen Victoria, and speak 
with as much freedom to the Grand Sultan as to the 
captain of his company, approached and spoke to 
him : 

" How are you, general ? " 

'' Well, I thank you ; how are you, soldier ? " Are 
you badly hurt?" 

" JN'ot very dangerously, general ; war is a terrible 
thing, is it not, general ? There ought to be some 
very good reason for tearing poor men to pieces, as 
you see these have been ; do you not think so, 
general?" 

"Yes, certainly, soldier, war is a dreadful curse; 
there is a great sin somewhere. Are many of your 
men dying, soldier?" 

" Yes, eight or ten every day, and if we do not 
receive food, we will all perish. General," contin- 
ued the soldier, '' how many men did you bring down 
from the valley?" 

" I cannot tell you, certainly ; how many do you 
think?" 

" I sujDpose," said the soldier, '^ seventy thousand." 

" You are not far wrong," said the general ; " who 
is your general? " 

'^ Kearney, as brave a man as ever drew a sword ; 
do you know him, general?" 

" Oh, yes, well ; you are led by a good officer. 
Good-bye, soldier." 
31 



362 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

^' Just one word more : general, you believe in 
prayer, and that God is on your side, do you not? " 
said the soldier, turning up his bandaged face, and 
looking with his one well eye at the general, and at 
the same time toying with his bridle rein. 

"I believe in prayer, and that God is on the side 
of right." 

" Exactly, general, so I believe ; but because you 
think you are right and I am wrong, you command 
your soldiers to shoot me ; and because I think our 
cause right and yours wrong, I try to shoot you ; we 
cannot both be right — one of us must be a great sin- 
ner, and who is to decide ? I should like to tell you, 
general, the talk I had with my wife and children 
before I enlisted, and how my prayers were an- 
swered." 

" That would be very interesting, soldier, but not 
to-day ; I have far to ride and much to do. Good- 
bye." 

General Jackson had more personal power and 
popularity than any officer in the Confederate Army. 
He was easily approached; never severe nor stern; 
unwilling to inflict military punishment, except 
where every other expedient had failed. He never 
indulged himself in any luxury, but partook of the 
simple and frugal fare of the common soldiers. He 
had but little of the manner of a slaveholder, but 
was patient, considerate, and unselfish. The love 
of order was one of the most striking and remarka- 
ble things in his character. If he was in the tent 
of a brother officer, he envarialy left it at nine p. m., 
and retired to his own. If any persons were in his 
tent after nine o'clock they were expected to unite 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 3G8 

with him in his evening devotions, and not linger a 
moment after the prayer was ended. He was by no 
means a broad-minded man, but ardent, intense, 
honest. Deeply conscientious, and always true to 
his religious convictions. Into the tumult and wick- 
edness of an army he bore all the devout habits, rigid 
temperance, and austere piety of his home. His 
great force of character moulded all who came around 
him, or were under his command, and soon they fol- 
lowed him as invincible, because uniting as they 
thought to the highest military genius the sanctity 
of a prophet. He impressed his OAvn religioas views 
upon all the officers and men of his portion of the 
Confederate Army. Rarely did an oath pass the 
lips of one of his men, and in the side pocket of each 
I saw invariably a 'New Testament. In appearance, 
General Jackson was rather a commanding man ; 
the expression of his face was grave and sad ; his 
words were few, and did not flow with freedom ; but 
his whole manner was that of one who felt that he 
w^as equal to any emergency; with him to deliber- 
ate was to act, and to plan was to do. His success 
as a commander was due in part to the enthusiasm 
of his troops, but in a great measure to the fiery im- 
petuosity with which he rushed his soldiers against 
some weak point of our lines, and if at first defeated, 
he brought up another column, and if again these 
were compelled to fall back, another, and it mattered 
not how many of his men fell, he persevered, break- 
ing the line by the force of repeated blows and com- 
pelled a retreat on our part, or a readjustment of 
our forces. My impression from all that I could 
learn was, that he had entered into the war with 



364 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

hesitation, for lie was well acquainted with North- 
ern people, and np to the commencement of hos- 
tilities had been a Union man. But when Virginia 
threw herself into the Southern Confederacy, he 
oiFered his services, and whatever conscientious 
scruples he may have entertained at the commence- 
ment of the contest were lost in his enthusiasm for 
action. And he soon began to entertain the idea 
that he too was a ^' soldier of destiny," and raised up 
to demonstrate that it was possible to make some 
most important improvements in the science of war. 
The devotion of his followers, his military genius 
and energy, his unfeigned piety, would have done 
much to prolong the present contest, for his presence 
was equal to half an army. 

It is remarkable that amongst his dying words 
there are none which speak hopefully of the future 
of the Southern Confederacy, or give the assurance 
that he was convinced of the righteousness of that 
cause for which he had given his life. But from 
whatever side we look at him, he was one of the most 
remarkable men whom this war has brought forth 
from the bosom of obscurity. 



REMOVAL OF THE SICK. 365 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Removal of the Sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station to 
Richmond — The Confederate Commissary's Criticisms on our 
Generals — The Removal of seven hundred and fifty of our 
Wounded to Richmond on the 13th July — Scenes in the Streets 
— Libby Prison. 

On Saturday, the 12th of July, there came from 
Richmond several wagons and omnibuses to remove 
the sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station, and 
about dark the long train from these places started 
on its way. The nurses and men who were able to 
walk part of the way were placed in line and sent in 
advance. I rode with the sick for two miles. They 
were all full of hope, for this was a step out of the 
wilderness of sorrow and was bearing nearer the gate 
of deliverance. There were three of the sick whom 
I never expected to see again. The Confederate 
officer who had command of the train was from Bal- 
timore, and was one of those free, easy and swelling 
characters, who under the greatest freedom and loose- 
ness of speech conceal the deepest cunning. "We 
rode together through the forest, and he imparted 
to me freely his views of the Confederacy and of their 
generals. I asked what were his hopes of their ulti- 
mate success. He assured me that they would cer- 
tainly be conquerors ; that they were united, while 
31* 



ijC}6 REBEL DUPLICITY. 

we were divided ; tliat they had made up their minds 
to sacrifice everything rather than yield ; that no 
offer we could make to them would he listened to 
for a moment ; they wished to he independent and 
estahlish the grand Model Repuhlic of this continent. 

"Yes, sir," said he, lifting himself in his stirrups 
and stretching wide his arms as if with one hand 
grasping the shore of the Atlantic, and with the other 
touching the waters of the Pacific, '' we will do it. 
Everything favors us ; the star of promise heckons 
us on, — and we follow it. Providence says to us, arise 
and conquer. We have generals equal to Moses and 
Joshua, and greater than Caesar." 

" Colonel," said I, " do you think we lost as many 
men in the recent battles as you did? You know 
the battle of Malvern Hill was very fatal to your 
men." 

"Think," said he; "sir, I know and assure you, 
on the honor of a gentleman, that you lost three to 
our one." 

"Do you judge, colonel, from the appearance of 
the dead upon the field, or from other sources of 
knowledge ? For if your conclusion has been reached 
by riding over the fields of battle my judgment may 
be as good as yours, for I have been there and must 
confess that some things struck me with amazement. 
In some fields where great numbers of your men fell 
there is not one of your dead, but all have been 
removed, even the horses which fell at your batteries 
are buried, and the graves of our dead are made as 
prominent as possible ; for each one there is a mound 
of earth, while in places where your dead were so 
numerous that you could not remove them you in- 



REBEL DUPLICITY. 36T 

terred three, four, and even ten, in the same pit, 
thus concealing your dead and taking every measii^^e 
to display ours to the full; and at the head of eveiy 
grave of a Union soldier you were certain to leave 
out his cap or a fragment of his blue coat, or a shred 
of his pantaloons, as a sign that a Yankee had fallen 
there ; and I have every reason to believe that you 
scattered these mementoes of our troops amongst 
the graves of your own men. I have been enough 
among you to know what you hoped to gain by all 
this. Have I not seen riding over those same fields 
great numbers of gentlemen from Richmond, and 
even ladies, and have heard here and there a hun- 
dred times the remarks: 'Look at those graves, but 
the caps, blue clothes, and even shoes, show who lie 
here; our men must have killed more than a hun- 
dred to one of the Yankees.' ' Look at those horses ; 
that is where Ave took their batteries.' And in those 
portions of the fields where even you confess you 
suft'ered terribly, none of your dead are found, and 
around that negro house in the battle-field of Glen- 
dale, where, at the lowest calculation, you left five 
hundred dead men, not one grave of yours is seen, 
and after you had removed nearly all your slain and 
buried them in out of the way places and scattered 
these fragments of the clothing of the Union soldiers 
about every grave, then you invited all Richmond to 
ride over the fields of your glorious exploits ; and if 
all these were disconsolate on account of their dead, 
they were sent back to your capital with the delight- 
ful assurance that, for every one you had lost, there 
had been ten Yankees killed. 

"Yes, colonel, what I witnessed there more fully 



, »» 



868 REBEL '-STRATEGY. 

convinced me that your Confederacy is a sham, as is 
the case in every sinking concern, you keep your- 
selves in courage by whistlings, swaggerings, and 
concealments. The Confederacy is like an old -wind- 
shaken, sun-dried, unoiled wagon, which, as it comes 
rattling down a hillside, makes more noise than a 
whole army-train." 

He burst into a loud laugh. "l!^ow," said he, 
"have you lived to your time of life and not yet dis- 
covered that the world is governed by shams ? What 
was all that talk of your Government, your generals, 
and your papers, about strategy but the emptiest of 
all shams? The fact is. Doctor, sham is the horse 
that wins the race in these days, and truth is blown 
out and distanced in less than a mile. I am far from 
agreeing with you in regard to the policy of our 
generals in disposing of our dead. I call that a piece 
of brilliant strategy ; it kept our people in heart and 
made them think that if Richmond was full of 
wounded and dying, Ave had broken and destroyed 
your army. Doctor, you may as well give up this 
contest. God is not on your side, or else he would 
have given you generals with some brains. Why, 
we planned all this campaign for you in Richmond, 
and had our friends in Washington to secure its 
adoption. It worked better than we anticipated. 
You took the very course we had chalked out for 
you, except that you dug the graves of many thou- 
sand more men at Yorktown than we had dared to 
hope for. There will be many astounding things 
brought to light when this war is over." 

"You know," I said to him, "that General Mc- 
Clellan alone is responsible for this campaign, and 



REBEL CRITICISMS. 369 

I have heard you express very great respect for hia 
ability, and you said this was the sentiment of the 
officers of your army." 

"That is true," he replied, "General McClellan 
deserves credit for being one of the greatest engi- 
neers of the age. He has thrown up here and before 
Yorktown monuments of his genius, but he needs 
some man of ability and common sense to tell him 
where to construct them ; they are just about as valu- 
able as the first five miles of a railroad to the moon. 
General McClellan digs his entrenchments, throws 
up his redoubts, and if we would only accommodate 
him by standing still, or by not advancing upon him 
till he was fully ready, he would certainly whip us. 
But when he looks for us in front, we are turning 
his rear, and when he expects us to attempt to carry 
his works by storm, we determine to change his base 
of operations. But here we part ; when you come 
to Richmond let me know of it, and I will take you 
over the city, and aid you in every way in my 
power." 

Sunday^ July I'^tli. — Very early on the morning 
of this day there came down from Richmond a long 
train of dirt and box cars, for the removal of all the 
wounded who could be carried on them. There was 
great uncertainty in regard to the design of this 
change. The orders were indefinite, the officers who 
brought them had no authority, and thought we were 
not to stop in Richmond, but to be taken to James 
River, and placed on our transports ; others supposed 
we were to be sent to Lynchburg and Salisbury. 

Soon every spot was crowded with men eager to 
escape from the confinement and misery of a place 



o 



70 RANDOLPH SPEAR. 



where so much suffering had been endured. We 
had little food to give to the seven hundred and fifty 
men who crowded the cars, and many of them, in 
the charity of hope, gave all the crackers in their 
haversacks to those whom they were leaving. Two 
or three surgeons and myself were detailed to go 
with them. Before the hour for starting, I visited 
the tents where were lying the persons most dan- 
gerously wounded. Amongst this number I came 
to a young man, whom I saw at a glance was rapidly 
nearing the veil which separated the present from 
the mystery of the future. His right limb had been 
amputated. I had seen and talked with him before, 
but now, feeling that the last words were to be spoken, 
I lingered for many minutes by his side. He told 
me his name was Randolph Spear; that his father's 
family were living in Elizabeth, Pennsylvania; that he 
was of the 8th Reserve Corps ; and, as in many cases 
of death from wounds, he possessed to the fall all his 
faculties, and could speak with ease. In the course 
of conversation I found that he had no hope of life, 
but felt certain that he had not many hours to live. 
I asked him of his hopes beyond the grave ; if he 
had made any preparation for meeting his Maker. 
He was like most soldiers, free and frank in speech. 
He said that he had intended to become a pious man, 
but had deferred from time to time, until he now 
felt he must die, and it was too late, and did not 
know that it was worth while for him to pray or give 
himself any trouble about his fate. I urged the duty 
of confessing his sins, and like the prodigal son, re- 
turning to the Father whom he nad offended; that the 
greatness of Christ's love was beyond all our thoughts ; 



RANDOLPH SPEAR. 371 

that He delighted to lift us up out of the depths of 
our sinfulness and misery ; that even now he could 
look up to the Lamb of God and live. He asked me 
to pray for him before I left. I clasped together his 
cold and now palsied hands, and lifting them up in 
my own commended the dying soldier to Him who 
endured for us the sufferings of death. When the 
prayer ceased his face was wet with tears. I saw 
that the rock was smitten. 

" That prayer," said he, "reminds me of my mo- 
ther. I knelt at her knee when I was a child, and she 
prayed for me, and now all her holy words come 
back to me. Oh, my mother ! shall I see her in the 
kingdom of God ? her Saviour will be mine ! " 

I bade him farewell. On the following Wednes- 
day a soldier met me at the depot in Richmond and 
said, " The soldier that you talked with and prayed 
for in Tent 'No. 5 died the night after you left, but 
prayed until the last ; and, after you had gone, said 
many things that deeply moved us all." May we 
not hope that the prayers of a pious, sainted mother 
were answered, and the angels sang, " The lost is 
found, and the dead is alive again ! " 

About noon I took my place in the cars, bearing 
with me one or two blankets for bedding, and two 
trunks full of such medicines and sanitary stores as 
I had saved. I had preserved nearly a hundred dol- 
lars' worth of quinine, some surgical instruments, 
bandages, some papers of cocoa, and a pot of butter ; 
all which had been left by Mr. Brunot. When I 
had taken my place in the midst of the wounded, I 
was surprised to find that there were none of the 
Burgeons who had been detailed to go with us 



372 REBEL CHARITY. 

but Dr. Fox, a volunteer surgeon from Philadel- 
phia. We bade farewell to" the surgeons and 
nurses, expecting them to follow the next day, and 
slowly the cars moved away from Savage Station. 
"We stopped at Fair Oaks and Orchard Stations, 
taking on board parties of gentlemen from Rich- 
mond. I found myself seated alongside of two well 
dressed and very communicative gentlemen from 
the city. They soon told me that they were the 
moving spirits of a benevolent society in Eichmond, 
the special mission of which was to look after their 
wounded, collect such property of their dead as could 
be found, and to visit the battle-fields for these pur- 
poses. In the prosecution of this most charitable 
work, these gentlemen had laid in a large supply, 
not of bread and wine, but of Confederate money, 
which they were most industriously exchanging with 
our men for greenbacks^ " because they pitied these 
poor hungry, fainting wretches, and they could ob- 
tain nothing in Richmond for Federal money." And 
though they assured us it was at a loss, they ex- 
changed dollar for dollar. For the time I thought 
that some little of the milk of human kindness was 
left in the Rebel capital, and looked on these grave 
and hard-faced Southerners as men who truly pitied 
us, and who, at some loss and peril, would benefit 
even their enemies. I talked with them with more 
freedom, and pardoned the bitterness and rage 
with which they spoke of our invasion of the sacred 
fields of Virginia, because, though they gave us no 
bread, nor even looks of pity, they took our unne- 
gotiable money, and gave us in return that whisih 
would buy us food ; but, alas, the quality of their 



REBEL BRAGGADOCIO. 373 

mercy was to confer the largest blessing on them- 
selves. "When we reached Richmond I found that 
our money was selling at seventy and eighty per 
cent, premium, and these affable representatives of 
a benevolent society were making, in the exercise of 
a most self-denying pity, two dollars for one. They 
were likewise loaded down with revolvers, which 
were worth in their market forty and fifty dollars, 
which they had kindly relieved our men of at the 
rate of two or three dollars a piece. They had like- 
wise, with the aid of four or ^ve negro servants, col- 
lected a large number of our overcoats and shawls. 
They were ^' looking after the interests of their brave, 
heroic men," but everything was so managed as to 
contribute to the well-being of their own houses — 
wisdom walked by the side of charity. These gen- 
tlemen were so kind as to point out to me the strength 
of the defences of Richmond, and to likewise inform 
me of the number of guns in the several fortifica- 
tions crowning the heights. Every half mile the old, 
crazy locomotive attempted a whistle, and stopped 
on the track ; this would summon to the road a bri- 
gade of wild, savage-looking Confederate soldiers, 
who crowded around the cars, and with evident de- 
light looked in on the ^'wounded Yankees." 

My friends of the benevolent society considerately 
made me acquainted with the names of various regi- 
ments and their commanders ; and I was further in- 
debted to them for glowing details of the brilliant 
feats of those " Southern heroes." " They had never 
been whipped and never could." "Two regiments 
of them had defeated an entire corps of McClellan's 
army," etc., etc. Again the wheezy, consumptive 
32 



374 ARRIVAL AT RICHMOND. 

engine would attempt a move ahead, and if there 
was an ascending grade, frequently half an hour was 
expended in pulling and dislocating jerks, and after 
the progress of another mile, we again stopped and 
summoned another crowd of Rebel soldiers. Of 
these, my friends of the Confederate money had 
even more astounding deeds of valor to relate. 
" These were the heroes of an hundred battles — from 
every field they had returned conquerors," which I 
suppose accounted for the fact that they were nearly 
all dirty and ragged. 

When we reached the depot, my friends of the 
charitable fraternity bade me farewell, and were so 
kind as to assure me that it would afford them the 
greatest pleasure to call upon me if I remained in 
Eichmond. Possibly I might need a little Confed- 
erate money. As an expression of regard, they 
should esteem it a pleasure to exchange for "green- 
backs." I thanked them. I had no need of money 
at present. We separated, they assuring me that 
they would call to-morrow ; but, I am sorry to say, 
I was forgotten. Their benevolent labors were so 
unintermitted and absorbing that they never had 
time to honor me with any remembrance. When 
we entered E.ichmond there were many evidences 
of former wealth and prosperity. There were many 
fine suburban residences on the hills, and lofty, com- 
manding warerooms and storehouses stood behind 
the wharves and depots. But these were now empty ; 
the streets were gloomy and silent; the grass was 
growing in the great thoroughfares at the depots ; 
the boats in the canal were sunk and rotting ; not a 
vessel was lying at the wharves. When we entered 



THE GEORGIA MAJOR. 375 

the York River depots we were surprised to find 
no one there to receive us. Here and there a 
guard walked on his beat, but it was evident our 
coming was an event unherakled. In a few mo- 
ments the arrival of the "wounded Yankees" at- 
tracted a crowd of citizens, officers, soldiers, chil- 
dren, and negro servants. 

An hour and more passed away, and it began to 
be highly probable that we would have to remain in 
the cars all night. In the meantime the crowd in- 
creased ; and, with the exception of the German wo- 
men and children, I looked in vain for one human 
face that lighted in sympathy, or softened in pity 
for our miseries. The negroes stood at a distance, 
with the appearance of those who beheld a spectacle 
that startled and overwhelmed them. But well- 
dressed officers and gentlemen walked near the cars, 
and looked in on pale, bleeding, and maimed suf- 
ferers with complacent satisfaction. And even ladies 
came near, and gazed in on spectacles of the most 
touching distress, without one expression of com- 
passion. But one uttered the wish of many : "It 
is a great pity that all of them were not killed." 

As I stood on the platform I was addressed by an 
officer of a Georgia regiment; he was a major in 
rank, and a fine-looking, powerful man. 

" In Richmond, doctor ? " said he, with a sneer, 
supposing, as a matter of course, that I was a surgeon. 

"Yes, sir, I presume so." 

"Somewhat sooner than you expected?" he 
said. 

" Oh no, sir; I expected to be in Richmond more 



376 THE GEORGIA MAJOR. 

than a montli ago, when we whipped you at the bat- 
tle of Fair Oaks." 

''And why did you not come then ? " rejoined he. 

" Because our right wing could not come to our 
aid, and we did not know soon enough how com- 
plete was your defeat." 

" Well," said he, " you have found this a hard road 
to travel, and no holiday work to meet the chivalry 
of the South. I suppose that you are tired and sick 
of the business, and all you wish is to get out of 
this war with some show of honor?" 

" 'NOj sir, you were never more mistaken ; we can 
lose ten armies and not exhaust our resources, We 
have entered upon this contest because you attempted 
to destroy the government which we love ; not be- 
cause we wish to conquer you, or gain one foot of 
your lands ; we have enough — we covet nothing 
that is yours, not even your ' institutions ; ' but we 
cannot consent to see the country drift into anarchy 
to please you. We must uphold the laws and insti- 
tutions we esteem sacred. You have forced this 
war upon us. We have taken up arms most reluc- 
tantly, and we cannot lay them down until we see 
you peacefully dwelling under our flag again." 

"Then," said he, "you have a war for the next 
century upon your hands. We never can go back 
to the old government. Our dead would rise from 
their graves and curse us, if we consented to such 
dishonor. JSTo, sir, never ! You may burn our cities, 
ruin our estates, steal our negroes, and cover our 
fields with the bones of our slain — but go back into 
the Union with the hated Yankees, never ! " 

An hundred voices most emphatically exclaimed, 



CAPTAIN TURNER. 377 

*' never," and all these dark-browecl children of pas- 
sion scowled in anger. 

"We," continued the major, "can carry on this* 
war as long as you can. The South was never more 
prepared than now, and our negroes never so loyal : 
the faithful creatures cannot be induced to forsake 
us in our hour of need. Any hopes you may have 
of assistance from them are utterly futile." 

It required but a glance at the excited throng 
which surrounded me to see that a single word would 
produce the wildest storm of rage, in which more 
than one unarmed prisoner might fall a victim to 
their vindictive anger. Here, and on many subse- 
quent occasions, I learned to place a low estimate on 
the honor and magnanimity of Southern chivalry. 
Who ever saw, in any of our cities, a prisoner from 
the Confederacy surrounded by an excited mob, 
waiting for one indiscreet word as the signal to tear 
him to pieces ? 

In the midst of this conversation. Captain Turner, 
who was in command of all the prisons and their 
guards, came to the depot. The captain w^as a 
young man, about twenty-five years of age, evidently 
possessed of ability and energy. The expression of 
his face was that of one who had been in a passion 
ever since he was born. He trod the ground with 
a short, fiery stamp, and looked at us with an ex- 
pression, which said : " Expect tears from stones, 
but no pity from me." His indignation against 
somebody was unbounded. His grey eyes flashed 
fire. 

" Who sent you here ? We have not a spot for 
these miserable wretches ; I wish the whole concern 
32* 



378 SCENES IN THE STREETS. 

was in ." And waiting for no reply, he hissed 

out innumerable oaths and maledictions. 

What I saw at this time throws additional light 
upon a part of Dr. Swinburne's report, '^In refer- 
ence to the removal from Savage Station and other 
hospitals to Richmond." (Page 6.) 

Captain Turner left us with the hint that he might 
send us back to Savage Station ; but in a few 
moments Lieutenant Taylor appeared and ordered 
all the men able to walk to come out of the cars, 
and arrange themselves in line in the street. In a 
short time five hundred sick and wounded soldiers 
formed themselves into a broken, ragged column. 
Some of the men were fainting from exhaustion, 
but the dread of being abandoned, or lost from their 
companions, stimulated them to move and follow. 
Yery soon these fell down, and had to be carried 
from one halting place to another. 

It was now the middle of July. The heat of the 
day was such as to make the thinnest garment 
oppressive to a feverish body. Many had cast away 
their shirts and coats, and others their pants and 
shoes, which, saturated with blood, and conse- 
quently loathsome, had become exceedingly uncom- 
fortable. The spectacle was most distressing — so 
many wounded men in the streets of the Rebel 
capital, pale, bleeding, and, above all, nearly naked. 
Fortunately, Mr. Brunot and Mr. Reed had left 
more than one hundred shirts, and I had in my 
stores, received from the Sanitary Commission, 
more than one hundred pairs of drawers. With 
these we were able to cover many partially, who 
otherwise would have reached Richmond in a state 



SCENES IN THE STREETS. 879 

bordering on nakedness. Certainly the appearance 
of this wounded throng, starting on their march 
for the prison on Corey street, was calculated to 
have excited pity in the hardest heart. Many 
were hopping on rude crutches; others, with ampu- 
tated arms and shattered shoulders, moved as far as 
possible from their staggering companions, and were 
constantly pressed back into the mass by the bayonets 
of the brutal guards. Several entirely blind men 
were guided by the arms of the wounded, who leaned 
on them for support. Others, confused and uncertain 
about every step, groped and staggered like the 
palsied. Here one wounded in the leg had thrown 
away his torn and bloody pantaloons, and was limp- 
ing along with nothing on his limbs but the crim- 
soned bandages. Another, wounded in the chest 
and arm, had thrown, off his stiffened shirt, and with 
all the upper portion of his body bare moved along 
in the crowd leaning upon a less injured companion. 
There two compassionate nurses were bearing in 
their arms one to whom suffering and loss of blood 
gave the ghastliness of a corpse. 

Such was the procession which left the depot, 
and slowly moving round the canal, approached the 
prison — 'No, 2, on Carey street. Here we stopped 
and waited for orders, but none came. In the 
meantime the sidewalks were lined with citizens. 
But few pitied the sufferers : I thought they did not 
dare to, for spies and informers were everywhere in 
the crowd. I^ow and then a kind German woman 
thrust out her hands, and gave to one who excited 
her especial pity a little cake, and when commanded 
by the guards to stand back and give nothing, 



380 THE BENEVOLENT GERMAN. 

answered with a diarming naivete, "Icli verstehe 
kein Engliscli." 

"Wliile we were halting before this prison the shades 
of evening began to fall over the city, and here and 
there a dim gaslight attempted to illumine the 
wretched capital. In the meantime many of the 
sick had fallen down on the sidewalks and in the 
streets from sheer exhaustion, and dropping asleep, 
were for a time unconscious of pain and misery. 
While we waited, a German of fine appearance and 
good manners approached me, and drawing me into 
the shadow of the prison, whispered in my ear that 
" he was a friend, and was anxious to do something 
for the relief of our sufi:erers ; that all he had was 
at our disposal." He said he had plenty of money, 
and offered me his pocket book, saying that we 
would need bread. He said when he looked upon 
our wounded men he shed tears, and resolved that 
he would risk his life for our relief, l^o words can 
express how much I was affected by the kind words 
and the generosity of this noble German. It was 
the sunbeam suddenly lighting up the dark prison- 
house. I thanked him, refused to take his money, 
and begged him to be careful and to show no such 
sympathy as would attract attention. In reply, he 
cursed the confederacy, and hoped the whole con- 
cern might soon be in . Certainly, I never 

before, nor since, heard swearing that sounded so 
appropriate; and the tears of gratitude, I hope, 
blotted out the sin. He then intimated to me the 
secret of the fact that the Germans were the only 
persons who dared to show us any sympathy. The 
most important and valuable workmen in their 



THE BENEVOLENT GERMAN. 381 

armories, arsenals, and ordnance foundries, were 
Germans, and tliese women were their wives and 
daughters. These Germans had been engaged in 
manufacturing in the South before the rebellion, 
and at no time had there been an opportunity for 
removing their families, and necessity compelled 
their working in their present employment. But 
they were all most eagerly hoping for our success, 
and looking for our army. ''And will Mr. McClellan 
never come?" I could not answer hopefully, but 
told him that the time would most certainly come 
when Richmond would be ours. He then told me 
that the confederacy had suffered beyond our esti- 
mate in the recent battles ; that every house, hotel, 
and ware-room, was a hospital ; that the city was in 
the deepest gloom over their dead — some one gone 
from every house ; that a few more such victories 
would sweep away all the aristocracy ; that they 
were without any of the luxuries, and almost the 
necessities, of life ; that the inhabitants of the city 
were under a reign of terror ; that General Winder, 
the Provost Marshal, and Colonel Baxter, the Judge 
Advocate, were the most cold-blooded and heartless 
of men ; and that, after having enriched themselves 
under the old government, they now took a malig- 
nant satisfaction in ruining every man who was sus- 
pected of any lingering regard for the Union. The 
judgment he passed upon these worthies was con- 
firmed to me by subsequent events. 

After remaining more than an hour before Prison 
jS^o. 2, we were ordered to remove to Prison 'No. 4, 
on Main street. Toward this we marched as fast 
as the nature of the case admitted, attended by an 



S82 CAPTAIN TUTHILL. 

immenftr^ throng of curious citizens. When we 
reached this prison we were halted in the street, and 
again more than half the men laid down in the dust 
and fell asleep. In the office, or reception room, of 
the prison, were three or four officers, who appeared 
to have been selected for their non-acquaintance 
with either mercy or charity. Prominent among 
these was a captain of commissary, named Tuthill : 
he was a short, stout man of thirty-five years of age, 
with black hair, round face, and a voice like a lion's 
growl. He made his appearance in the office, swear- 
ing like a Flemish trooper, and in a towering rage, 
with the air of one feeling that language was too 
poor to express his mighty emotions, he strode to 
and fro, looking for objects upon which to vent his 
fury. He soon, however, began to work off his pas- 
sion by kicking in the sides of several empty cracker 
boxes, hurlmg the fragments against the sides of the 
room, as though he expected the walls to totter. He 
next kicked over all the old chairs in the room with 
an evidently damaging effect upon their few remain- 
ing legs. He now moved up to an old rusty stove, 
which stood near the centre of the room, looking as 
if he would pitch this into the street, or hurl it 
through the ceiling ; but, after a moment, satisfied 
himself with covering it with indignant tobacco 
juice. This was the more amusing, as it was evi- 
dent that much of it was merely good acting. 
Tuthill was really not a bad-hearted man, nor un- 
pityiug, but he was obeying instructions, or imi- 
tating the meanness of his superior officers. Kich- 
mond was then full of prisoners, and many of them 
might be able to handle a gun in a few days, and 



SCENES IN THE PRISON. 383 

their guards were few, and it was thought essential 
for safety that the prisoners should be impressed 
with a salutary dread of the ferocious qualities of 
the Confederate officers. If they could succeed in 
making us think they were not to be touched by 
any sentiment of humanity, it would deliver them 
from a thousand annoyances. Who would dare, 
after this display, to approach Tuthill and tell him 
that in four days he had had but one loaf of bread, 
and an ounce of meat in a week? 

In a few moments I was ordered to bring in the men, 
four at a time. An officer stood at an old dilapidated 
desk, and, with the tragic air of a martyr, rolled up 
his coat-sleeves, and took up a pen. Another stood 
by his side, holding a broken tin lantern, in which 
glimmered the feeble rays of a tallow candle ; an- 
other candle was stuck in the top of the stove, and, 
softened by the heat of the room, leaned for support 
against the stove-pipe. Thus illuminated, the offi- 
cer announced the duties of the evening. 

First was brought before them a shirtless Union sol- 
dier, with an amputated arm. In a stern, angry man- 
ner, the officers asked his name, his regiment, his 
corps, demanding if he had any Confederate money, 
any fire-arms ; when satisfied that he had none of 
these, his knapsack was opened, and all his little sou- 
venirs of home, wife or children, which the soldier had 
carried with him in many battles, and borne through 
weary marches, were thrown upon the floor, with 
letters, papers, Testament, and hymn-book. The 
knapsack was taken from him and thrown aside, 
and he commenced to remove the coat, blanket, 
daguerreotypes, etc., etc., which were lying at his 



384 SCENES IN THE PRISON. 

feet. The look of the poor fellow was that of the 
utmost amazement. What was he to do with those 
thmgs, and how could he carry them with one arm ? 
His knapsack was of no use. Would not they give 
it to him? "l!To," with a bitter oath ; "take away 
your miserable rags." And the poor fellow was 
compelled to stoop down and gather up, with my 
assistance, the articles strewn on the floor. Some 
were bound up in a torn handkerchief, some in the 
pockets of his pants, and such as he could, he car- 
ried under his only remaining arm. 

The next one brought forward was a soldier with 
a wound in his head, from the effects of which he 
was confused in utterance, and had lost all remem- 
brance of his home or his regiment ; the fury and 
swearing of the officers served only to confuse him 
the more, and drive away his few remaining ideas, 
and he began to think that he was before a criminal 
court, charged with some great crime, and his face 
and body became convulsed, as if in perfect despair. 

One after another were brought forward and ex- 
amined, their knapsacks opened, and all the soldiers* 
valuables dashed out upon the floor. There were 
many most painful scenes during the collection of 
these articles, and more than one poor sufferer fell 
fainting on the floor during the effort. 

The prison was one of the large tobacco ware- 
houses, and was three stories in height. The rooms 
were large halls, poorly ventilated, and disgustingly 
filthy. The dust and tobacco-juice of years had 
accumulated in ridges and hillocks on the floor. 
From the same cause every step of the stairs was 
as uneven as if covered with pebbles. The odor of 



o 

O 

o 



o 



S o 




SCENES IN THE PRISON. 385 

these apartments was indescribably foul ; tbey bad 
been filled with prisoners, who bad been removed 
but a few hours, and had left behind them all the 
offal of mortal maladies, weaknesses, and wounds. 
There had been no sweeping, nor cleansing. Into 
these dismal rooms our poor men were pushed, and 
compelled to drink in an air, the first breath of 
which caused me to shudder. Many of the sick and 
wounded were without blankets, and were obliged 
to lie on the bare floor, as nothing was provided 
them by the Confederate Government. 

We had received no food since breakfast, and to 
my request for bread for the fainting men, the reply 
was, "that they had none; that if McClellan had 
not burnt hundreds of barrels of flour, and thousands 
of boxes of crackers, they might have had some- 
thing to give us, but now they had not enough for 
their own men." 

During the time occupied in taking down the 
names and regiments of the prisoners, I asked per- 
mission of Captain Tuthill to go down to the depot 
and look after the men we had left in the cars una- 
ble to walk. He answered me kindly, and obtained 
a pass. I went out into the street to find my way, 
in the darkness of the night, to the depot. But 
after I had gone a few steps, I was joined by my 
German friend, who had been lingering in the 
shadow of a building near the prison. He insisted 
upon going with me, telling me the guard would 
certainly shoot me otherwise, and leading me around 
by his house, took especial pains to impress its lo- 
cality upon me, saying, '^ If you ever want a break- 
fast or dinner come here. If you want money, or 
33 



386 SCENES IN THE PRISON. 

need bread, so long as I have a cent or a crumb you 
shall have it." He then accompanied me to the de- 
pot, and was of the greatest assistance in placing the 
remaining wounded in the ambulances which had 
been sent, driven by negro drivers. When this was 
done, he walked with me until near the Main Street 
Prison, and then left me, again offering his pocket- 
book, and urging me to come to him the next day. I 
never compromised this generous man by calling at 
his house, for I felt assured he was already under 
surveillance, and any open act of kindness to us 
would have led to his imprisonment; but I have 
marked the locality of his house, and daguerreo- 
typed on my mind his features, and I hope I may 
yet have an opportunity of thanking him, in Rich- 
mond, for his generous sympathy and fearless proffer 
of aid, when we were poor prisoners. Upon my 
return to the prison, after aiding those who were 
yet to be examined, I secured a candle, and went 
from room to room. The despondency and misery 
of the men had now reached their acme. Many of 
them said that they wished to die, and prayed that 
their sorrows might end with that night. Stretched 
upon the naked floor, or leaning against a brick 
wall, without food and medical assistance, their suf- 
ferings were extreme, and rendered them spiritless 
and hopeless. But to all such I endeavored to 
speak words of cheer and encouragement, remind- 
ing them of the many to whom their lives were most 
precious, and encouraging them, for their sakes, 
to make a great effort to live. Doctor Fox had, 
during the evening and night, been occupied with 



LIBBY PRISON. 387 

dressing and bandaging the wounds of those whom 
he found the greatest sufferers. 

About midnight we were informed that our quar- 
ters were to be in "Libby Prison," and the doctor 
and myself were marched under guard to that place. 
When we reached it we were taken into the office, 
and our trunks and baggage examined. Captain 
Tuthill, and a young man named Ross, were ap- 
pointed to search us, and confiscate any contraband 
articles which might be found in our possession. I 
had brought with me a supply of medicines, and 
some sanitary stores. I had eight bottles of quinine, 
and these were taken from me, together with all the 
bandages I still retained; but they left all my per- 
sonal property, except papers, which they took for 
examination. I had with me several packages of 
the " Christian Banner," published by the American 
Tract Society, Boston. These they examiiied, and 
told me they were familiar with the paper, for seve- 
ral copies had been brought into Richmond, which 
had been given to their officers and men in different 
places. They expressed themselves as greatly pleased 
with it, and told me I might give away as many as 
I pleased ; that such papers could do no harm, but 
good. And such tracts and books as I had with 
me (obtained from the Rev. Mr. Alvord for the sick 
in the hospitals) I was permitted to distribute with- 
out restraint. These officers were very obliging with 
me, and Captain Tuthill took occasion to say to me, 
that much of the violence I had seen on his part was 
assumed ; that he had to obey orders ; but he assured 
me that anything he could do for me would afford 
b.m the greatest pleasure. Subsequently, I found 



388 DR. FOX, 

Captain Tuthlll to be the most humane Confederate 
officer with whom I came in contact in Richmond. 

While in this office, my friend Doctor Fox was 
placed under arrest. He had by his side a canteen 
of whisky, which he carried with him for the bene- 
fit of patients. This canteen was demanded, when 
the doctor walked to the door, took out the stopper, 
and commenced emptying the whisky into the street. 
He was immediately arrested for ''contempt," and 
threatened with the bayonets of the guard. For a 
few moments there was a scene of the greatest ex- 
citement, which ended in restoring to the doctor his 
empty canteen, and permitting him to remove his 
blanket, for his night's rest, to another room of the 
building. 

"We were at length conducted to what is called 
the "East Room." This was dimly lighted, and here 
and there was the flickering candle of a nurse over 
some pale, suffering face. Libby Prison covers an 
entire square. It fronts, I think, three hundred and 
seventy feet on Carey Street, and is one hundred and 
twenty feet deep. It is four stories high. The base- 
ment rooms were used for a dead-house, kitchens, 
bake, and wash-rooms. The rooms occupied by the 
prisoners were great halls, ninety feet wide, and ex- 
tending the depth of the building. It was possible 
to ventilate, to some extent, the rooms with side 
windows looking to the east and the west ; but the 
central halls could not receive a breath of air, except 
through the north and south windows, and therefore 
were hot and foul to a degree entirely incomprehen- 
sible to one who has not been so unfortunate as to 
have been an inmate of that loathsome dungeon. I 



SUFFERINGS OF THE WOUNDED. 389 

think it one of the things beyond the region of pos- 
sibility, that Southern prisoners in our hands should 
be consigned, even for a day, to quarters so incon- 
ceivably vile. In the lower rooms, the dead were 
carried, remaining uncoffined for days ; and from 
thence ascended, through all the rooms, the pestilen- 
tial breath of a charnel-house. In every crack and 
crevice millions of vermin crawled and swarmed. 
The floors and walls had not been cleansed for years. 
To consign prisoners to these rooms was to sign 
their death-warrant — crowded together, every inch 
of the floors covered, every breath they inhaled 
loaded with the poison of fever and the exhalation 
of wounds, how could they live ? In the centre 
of these rooms all the men were gasping and crying 
out, " I shall die, unless I have a little fresh air." 
And yet, with all their boasted civilization and hu- 
manity, the Confederate Government continues to 
immerse thousands of men in living tombs. 

It should not, therefore, be a matter of wonder 
that one-third of the men consigned to those cham- 
bers of death never came forth but to be coffined — 
and all bore with them for years, the consequences 
of breathing an air so pestilential. The treatment 
which our prisoners here received at the hands of 
the Rebel Government displays, more than anything 
else, how completely it has thrown itself out of the 
pale of Christian civilization. 

Was there no lumber in Richmond, out of which 
buildings might have been made, as w^as done in 
"Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, etc., etc., for 
the accommodation of the sick and the wounded ? 
Were there no more houses that could be thrown 
33* 



390 ILL-ADVISED POLICY. 

open for sucti purposes ? Were there no trees in the 
forest that might have been cut and split, and houses 
erected on open grounds, where the panting and suf- 
fering prisoners, if they were denied food, might at 
least enjoy the air of heaven ? 

If, after the first battles, they were forced to con- 
sign hundreds to those dungeons, for want of suita- 
ble places for their confinement, was there any ne- 
cessity for continuing a cruelty absolutely infernal 
and Satanic ? Possibly the Confederate Govern- 
ment thought, in this manner, to make unendurable 
to us the continuance of a war, so fatal to the men 
who fell into their hands. But there never was a 
policy more ill-advised; for every man who has 
passed through the tribulations of the Richmond 
prisons, and beheld his companions perish from 
want and confinement, bears ever in his heart a 
thirst for revenge, which seeks gratification in the 
destruction of the city where he suifered such indig- 
nities and miseries. 



ADJUTANT QAITHBR. 391 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

Night Scene and Conversation in Libby Prison — Nolan and his 
Song — Scene at the Depot, July 16th — Feeding the Hungry — 
German Charity. 

Very soon after entering the officers' room, I was 
addressed by many familiar voices, and had the 
gratification of meeting some whom I feared I should 
never see again. Amongst this number was Lieu- 
tenant-colonel Mclntire, Captain Bagaler, Captain 
Demirey, Captain Reed, Lieutenant Smith, of the 
3d Michigan, Captain Adams, etc. All these had 
rather improved since I left them in the hospitals 
on the battle-fields. Of these I made inquiries for 
other wounded officers and soldiers, and learned that 
many of them were dead. 

"And Adjutant Caither?" 

" Oh, he still lives, and lies on that cot." 

I was surprised, and with glad eagerness advanced 
to his bed : he was awake. 

"Yes, my friend," said he, "I am still here, and, 
thank God, better. I breathe with more ease, and 
if I cannot live, I am grateful for this relief." 

He spoke with ease; his cheeks were slightly 
tinged with hectic fever, and his face was beautifully 
placid and radiant. He told me he had suffered much 
in his removal, but had been most kindly nursed by 



392 NIGHT SCENE IN LIBBY PRISON. 

a l^ew England soldier, who was then standing- on 
the other side of the cot fanning him. He said this 
man had watched him, and in every possible way 
ministered to his relief, with more than the self- 
denial and love of a brother. He said he was glad 
to tell me that all the fear of death was gone, and 
all the conflict of the first days of suffering was 
ended; and now, like a little child, he was resting on 
the bosom of his Saviour, and felt assured that what- 
ever fate awaited him, " it was well." While I was 
yet talking with him, a nurse approached me and 
said a soldier in one of the other rooms, who was 
thought to be dying, wished to see me. I followed 
his light, but stopped a moment by the side of the 
cot where William Reed, son of Captain Reed, was 
breathing his last; and then passing on by the cots 
where were lying Lieutenant-colonel Woodward, 
Dr. Donnelly, Dr. Skelton, and Colonel Dodge, I 
stopped a moment to speak with each, and following 
the candle of the nurse ascended the stairs, when 
we stood in the second story hall. The dim lights 
burning here and there revealed a scene never to be 
forgotten — there were no cots nor beds, but the 
bare and naked floor was covered with a ghastly 
multitude lying, leaning against the posts and walls, 
standing, reclining on one arm, and in all possible 
positions that could be assumed by sufferers. We 
ascended the second stairway, and stood in a similar 
room, and looked over a throng, where the features 
of misery were only a little varied. Through a door 
which had been cut in the brick wall we passed into 
a similar hall, likewise covered with a great com- 
pany of groaning and suffering men ; through anothei 



NIGHT SCENE IN LIBBY PRISON. 393 

sucli, and again anotlier, we passed until we came to 
the third story room of the western halls. Here we 
stepped over one after another, and carefully avoided 
the amputated limb, from which the imploring ges- 
tures of the sleepless sufferer warned us. "We stopped 
for a moment to speak with a young man whose 
face, pale as marble, and his eye bright as a star, told 
us that " many of his nights were wakeful, and in 
this place all his life came back to him ; and it was 
strange, he knew it must be mere illusion, but he 
heaiKi at times the church-bells of his native village, 
and sometimes heard the congregation sing, at other 
times the tones of the organ, and stranger than all 
he several times heard his father and mother call 
him as when he was a child." Poor fellow, that 
bright eye was soon dim, and that throbbing brain 
quiet forever. We at length came to the place 
where two or three benevolent nurses were holding 
up in their arms the dying soldier that had sent for 
me. He had seen me at some of the hospitals on 
the field, and wished me to assure him that Jesus 
Ckrist would receive a sinner such as he felt himself 
to be ; he wished to tell me of some sins that were 
now lying very heavily on his heart, and to know if 
even these could be forgiven, and to pray for him 
before he died. While I talked with him, many of 
the wounded lying near dragged themselves closer 
that they might hear — many of those, whose every 
breath was a moan, listened in quiet to the words of 
mercy. While talking and praying with this man, 
I heard, coming up from a remote corner of the 
great room, the voice of one who was pouring forth, 
in the richest and tenderest tones, the words of hope 



394 NOLAN, THE SINGER. 

and peace. I felt certain I had heard that voice 
before, and anxious to see one who, at the midnight 
hour, was Ulling the prison with his song of praise, 
I threaded my way through the throng, and came 
to his side. It was ISTolan, the wounded soldier 
whom I had first seen lying on the floor of the 
Brackett House. 

"Why, my friend," said he, "you come to us as 
strangely here as you did at Glendale ; some of us 
whom you saw there have gone up, others are still 
here, and like the angels returning to the gates of 
heaven, we try to send our voices before us, for I 
am not the only singer here; at times many join. 
I find, too, that after our first sleep all are restless 
and miserable for a time, and nothing quiets us like 
one of the hymns we sing in our churches at home ; 
and many a time these songs have been like a spring 
in the desert. Often, during the day and night, 
Warburton, Mecum, Coursan, Jefiiies, or some other 
of the poor fellows who lie around, will be so pained 
that they will think they must die, and will ask me 
to sing, and one after another will join, and then 
away off in other parts of the room one and another 
will take it up, until sometimes a hundred or more 
will try to murmur the words of a dear old hymn ; 
and, doctor, it fills the room with light, and many 
of us are lifted up into the bosom of our Lord, and 
al] feel better. Oh, it is a great thing to be able to 
say, ' I know that my Redeemer liveth ! ' " 

True to himself and his religion, this noble soldier 
was forgetful of himself, singing and talking to re- 
lieve and comfort those around him who were greater 
sufferers. His whole nature was joyous and cheer 



NOLAN, THE SINGER. 395 

ful, and no one would have known, by his looks or 
words, that he was one who had endured a tre- 
mendous shock. His countenance was peaceful, and 
I could see by the light of his eye, the compression 
of his lips, and the throbbing about his temples, 
that he suffered acute pain ; but he had resolved to 
bear all uncomplainingly, and to sustain those who 
were despondent and d3dng. Though he could 
not move from one to another, and with gentle 
hands and words relieve those who were suffering, 
his voice could reach many of them, and the words 
of his song might drop on them like blessed balm 
from heaven. Such was the influence, that many 
an one wept as he was reminded of other days 
and the dear voices of his own fireside ; many a 
darkened heart was enlightened, and the tempest- 
tossed and fearful were aided to trust and hope. 
iNoble man ! have not many appeared in heaven to 
thank him for the light he shed over the darkest 
nights, and the relief he imparted in their days of 
misery ? J^ear to Nolan was lying the young man 
wounded with the six-pound cannon-ball: he was 
cheerful, and had hopes of recovery. In this por- 
tion of the room were many of the worst cases of 
amputation in the prison : they told me, that in the 
open houses, barns, and sheds, where they had been 
for man}^ days before removal, they had improved, 
but during the week that followed nearly all these 
died. If they had not been compelled to breathe 
an air so loaded with foul exhalations many of them 
might have recovered. 

On the following morning I was permitted to visit 
the Main Street Prison. This led me, to some extent. 



396 PRICES IN RICHMOND. 

througb. other streets. There was little or no busi- 
ness transacted in the city ; almost every large house 
was a hospital, and few of the stores and shops were 
open. There did not appear to be as many goods 
in Richmond as would be required, in ordinary cir- 
cumstances, for a village of one thousand inhabitants. 
The prices to be paid for all articles of food were 
fabulous, and making the condition of the poor de- 
plorable. Beef was 50 cents per pound, ham 75 
cents, sugar 80 cents, salt 25 cents per pint, coffee 
$2.50, and tea $10 to $12 per pound. All articles 
of clothing were on a scale equally extravagant ; a 
pair of ladies' shoes were $10 to $12, a pair of gents' 
boots $50 to $75, a wool hat $30 to $40. At this 
time gold was at $3.00 premium, but since those 
days the value of gold has tripled, and consequently 
the price of everything in the market, and all the 
necessities of life, have steadily advanced, thus in- 
flicting on all classes the sufferings of want and 
poverty. The citizens whom I met in the streets 
were morose and gloomy; there appeared to be little 
of that hopefulness I had seen in their army ; here 
all were careworn, haggard, and desponding. During 
the morning of July 14th, about three hundred and 
fifty of the five hundred prisoners in the Main Street 
Prison were ordered to prepare for a removal to 
Belle Island, in James River ; the distance was about 
three miles. 

The wounded had been now without food for 
twenty-four hours ; many, when they came forth 
into the streets, fell down from exhaustion and the 
weakness caused by hunger. I went to Tuthill, and 
begged bread for those men ; but he told me that 




. ^ 

ft -• 

w 

Q 

I— I 
« 

H 
O 

Cu 

ft 
H 
W 
H 

<1 
ft 
ft 

o 

P 
O 

o 

H 
H 

:« 

Ed 



THE GERMAN WOMEN. 397 

an order had come in early that morning from some 
newly-arrived regiments for bread, and this, together 
with the demand for their own hospitals, had ex- 
hausted the supply to the last loaf; that the gov- 
ernment had no bakeries, but the daily supply was 
obtained by requisition upon the bakers of the city ; 
and that nothing could be obtained from these for 
several hours. 

Again the kind German women came to our re- 
lief, and passing along the line with baskets, they 
here and there slipped a cake. There were positive 
orders against such charity. But, as before, they 
were fearless of the bayonets of the guard, and to 
their commands, "Stand back!" "Stand back!" 
replied, " Ich verstehe kein Englisch." After remain- 
ing in the burning sun in the open streets for hours, 
at length the command came to march, and the 
people of Richmond were again gratified by the 
spectacle of a weary and staggering, crippled and 
fainting throng of "wounded Yankees." Many of 
them fell down before they reached the Island, and 
were unable to move another step ; others fainted, 
and remained insensible for hours. 'No assistance 
was tendered to these in the more aristocratic streets. 
The G-erman women did not dare to follow here, and 
not even a cup of cold water was offered ; few, in- 
deed, spoke words of insult, but all passed them by 
unpitied. "Wlien they reached the Island their 
condition was much better than when in the prison, 
for they had some liberty of action ; and though 
always poorly and capriciously supplied with food, 
they had the open au', and the shade trees. 

On Wednesday, the 16th of July, about ten o'clock, 
34 



398 KINDNESS OF A REBEL OFFICER. 

A. M., a Confederate officer, wliose name I never 
knew, sent for me into Libby Prison, and wished to 
speak to me for a moment. When I came out into 
the street to see him, he told me that there were 
lying at the York River dep6t four hundred wounded 
soldiers, who had been brought up from Savage Sta- 
tion on the previous day, and were without food, 
medicines, and nurses ; that he had come to me be- 
cause, though he pitied them, he was powerless to 
help, for no appeal from him would be listened to. 
I thanked him, and told him we would never forget 
his kindness and donation, and that he would yet 
reap a reward for going out of his way to be- 
friend us. 

I then went to Captain Turner, and told him of 
the condition of the Union soldiers lying at the de- 
p6t, and that they had not tasted bread for many 
hours, and were in the greatest distress. He said 
he had no bread, nor could he obtain any. I must 
look to Captain Tuthill. I asked him, if I should ob- 
tain the order from Captain Tuthill for bread, would 
he sign it ? Certainly, he said. I then sought Tut- 
hill, and found him in the basement rooms, superin- 
tending the cutting up of the soup-meat for the 
prisoners. The meat was strewed about on a floor 
covered with every kind of nastiness ; a few feet be- 
yond, in the same room, were lying several dead 
bodies ; there were some on the floor and others on 
stretchers; a short distance further, were four or 
more men preparing rude coffins, those of the offi- 
cers being painted brown. In one part of this room 
was a large furnace, and in this a number of iron 
vessels or kettles ; in these were boiling the bloody, 



APPLICATION rOR BREAD. 399 

saturated clotlis, whicli had been removed from 
wounds, and were in demand for re-dressing. In 
this room were fifteen most savage-looking wretches, 
who were the cooks for Libby Prison. Wliile here 
the cloths were taken out of the vessels, the dirty 
water drawn off, and fresh poured in, and without 
any more ceremony the meat was thrown in for the 
soup for dinner. 

In a few moments Tuthill was disengaged, and I 
immediately approached, and told him of the four 
hundred prisoners lying at the depot, and their 
wants. He drew me away some distance from the 
crowd of servants and loungers, and said, " go to 
Turner and get an order from him for bread, and I will 
fill it." I went back to Captain Turner's ofiice, and 
after some delay and rebufts obtained the ear of the 
captain for a moment, and requested an order from 
him for bread, " regretting much that the necessity 
of the case compelled me to trouble him." He 
stormed and swore, stamped on the floor, but very 
gently for him, and asked me " if Tuthill had sent 
me back ? " I replied that the commissary felt sure 
that an order from Captain Turner was all that was 
necessary for securing the bread. He growled some- 
thing about skulking out of responsibility, and wrote 
off the order. This, without a moment's delay, I 
placed in the hands of Tuthill. There were about 
him a large number of hungry Confederate soldiers ; 
some ragged officers of regiments ; all on half ra- 
tions. When he glanced his eye over it, he assumed 
the manner of the utmost astonishment and indig- 
nation. ^'Had he not enough to do to find food for 
their own hospitals ? Could loaves be rained from 



400 FEEDING THE HUNGRY. 

heaven V He would like to know wliere this hread 
was to come from ? People that were such fools as 
to hum up their own flour and crackers should he 
left to starve ? Wounded and sick men should not 
he as hungry as wolves? " Holding the paper be- 
tween his forefinger and thumb, looking as if the 
mere touching it gave him all the sensations one 
would be supposed to have in carrying a dead snake ; 
he strode up to the desk, and dashed off orders on 
several bakers for bread. The Confederates around 
looked at one another and winked. Some evidently 
pitied me, and hinted that the commissary was too 
rough ; one swore that " he did not believe in rob- 
bing Peter to pay Paul, especially if Paul was a great 
rascal." But Tuthill I perfectly understood, and 
his fine acting was stagely and amusing. In a few 
moments, two hundred and fifty loaves were brought 
in and thrown down in the dead-room. I had 
brought down from the prison, and became respon- 
sible for their return, five or six nurses, who were 
to convey the bread to the depot. One of these, 
Sergeant Temple, bore the pot of butter, which had 
been left in the store of Mr. Brunot. This I had 
brought up to Richmond, to be dispensed at the 
right hour. Robert Spear and Steward Luke bore 
some cans of preserves and fruits. We carried the 
bread in sheets, which I had borrowed from the 
store-room. 

When we came to the depot, I stepped on the 
platform into the midst of the throng. The cry was 
raised, '' bread ! " '' bread I " and many rushed tow- 
ard me with all the eagerness of maniacs. There 
was a wild tumult for a moment. But this was soon 



DR. CHURCH ILL. 401 

Btilled by my assuring tliem that if thej were pa- 
tient, we would give eacli one-half a loaf and a little 
good butter on each piece. We then divided the 
loaves, and all those who were able to walk camt- 
forward and were supplied ; but there was a multi- 
tude to whom we had to bear it. 

The wounded and sick were lying under open 
sheds, on the wet ground, for it was near the canal ; 
many were on the platform, some in the street, and 
others in secluded places under the shadow of walls 
and boards. The heat of the atmosphere was in- 
tense and withering beyond all that I have felt in 
Missouri and Illinois, or even in Africa ; the ther- 
mometer was standing at 103° in the shade. Many 
of these poor sufferers had endured until the nerve 
of sensation was palsied, and sank into that dreamy, 
languid repose that is the harbinger of death. There 
were striking illustrations of how much men can 
bear and live. 

I found with these men a surgeon. Dr. Churchill, 
who had the appearance of one in the last stage of 
exhaustion. He had suffered intensely from fever, 
weariness, and the presence of a wretchedness he 
could not relieve. He told me he had applied in 
vain for bread, and that no one would listen to him, 
and that he had returned to this scene of want and 
misery, exclaiming: "Let me die; it is better that 1 
should die than live." 

In my passing from one group to another, I came 
to a wounded soldier seated on the platform, and 
leaning with his back against the cars. When I 
came close to him, and asked him if he could take 
anything, he said he could not, for he was very ill, 
34* 



402 THE DYING SOLDIER. 

but asked me " to examine liis wound, and tell if it 
was possible for him to live." The ball had passed 
through the right lung, and gone out near the spine. 
He was breathing with great rapidity, but spoke 
with ease. I felt his pulse, and discovered that life 
was nearly gone. I said : "I am afraid you cannot 
live. Are you ready to die ? have you made any 
preparation?" 

" Oh ! " said he, '' I have been praying to God to 
send some one to talk with me and pray for me ; and 
now you, good sir, tell me what I must believe, what 
I ought to say to God, and what I must do to die 
safely." 

"With an interest I had rarely experienced in my 
life — for I felt certain that this man would be soon 
standing before the Infinite — I sat down by him, 
and spoke of the character and promises of the 
blessed Redeemer, and that the greatest of sufferers 
would most surely pity and help a dying soldier ; 
that, for just such as he was, God had made the pro- 
vision of the Gospel ; that his sins could be forgiven 
for the sake of Him who tasted death for us all. 
While I spoke to him many gathered around, and 
some wounded men dragged themselves closer, or 
were helped forward, that they might hear. The 
dying man then told me that he had some years 
before became connected with a church in or near 
Philadelphia ; that he had never forgotten the vows 
then made, and during his soldier life had endeavored 
to act as a Christian ; but now, when he came so near 
to death, he wished to know, with absolute assurance, 
that our Lord would remember him. He felt he was a 
sinner, and needed the help of One mighty to f^ave. 



THE DYING SOLDIER. 403 

"ITow," said lie, "I feel what a great thing it is 
to die ; one can never come back to try and do 
better, but I must meet again all the past and be 
judged ; I must see God and stand before him, and 
the holy angels about me. Oh, I need some great 
friend in heaven ! " 

I had never seen one so near to death talk with 
such ease and emotion. I repeated the first words 
of the 23d Psalm, and he joined with me, changing 
it, however, into the Scotch version : 

"The Lord's my shepherd; Fll not want. 

He makes me down to lie. 
In pastures green He leadeth me, 

The quiet waters by. 
Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, 

Yet will I fear none ill ; 
For Thou art with me; and Thy rod 

And staff me comfort still.'' 

The words of the Psalm lifted the vail off sacred 
memories, and with a face wet with tears, and a 
voice tremulous with emotion, he told me of his 
mother; that she was a widow, and he her only 
child ; that he was greatly indebted to her, for she 
had been a faithful, good mother, and had taught 
him to pray and love his Bible ; that he feared his 
death would be a sore blow to her, for he was her 
earthly hope and staff; that all the time he was in 
the army he had thought of the great pleasure of 
returning home, and living again with his mother. 
And there was another friend that was very dear to 
him and very good, but all that was gone now. They 
would find him in heaven. 

" My poor mother! this will be a very heavy blow 
lo her, for I was her only bairn. She had a great 



404 THE DYING SOLDIER. 

struggle before slie could consent to give me up. I 
had told her many times that I would never go to 
the war without her consent, but felt it my duty to 
help my country, and could look no man in the face 
if I stayed at home. To my many and earnest 
pleadings she at length yielded; and now I am 
afraid she never will forgive herself for allowing me 
to come. But God has ordered it all ; I had come 
to my time. It is all right. But will you, good sir, 
write to my mother — she is a member of a church 
in Philadelphia — and I will die happier if you tell 
me what you will write to her, and let her know 
that I thought of her and loved her to the last." I 
assured him that I would write to his mother. He 
then gave me her name : — " Mrs. Isabella Virtue, 
1^0. 1635 Moravian Street, Philadelphia.'*' 

I prayed with him, and endeavored to lift him 
up and place him in the bosom of Him who bore 
our sicknesses and carried our sorrows. No sooner 
was the prayer ended than many spoke to me, and 
urged me to come with them and see sufferers that 
were in great pain, or near to death. To many, and 
indeed all of these, I went, and in the course of an 
hour returned, and the soldier was dead; he was 
still lying on the platform, and his face was as peace- 
ful as that of a little child. Those near him told me 
that he gently fell asleep. There was no terror in- 
spired by the presence of the dead ; but many sat 
near him, and hands touched him, without a shud- 
der. I wrote to his mother, and subsequently saw 
her, and met one who is truly a daughter of grief, 
but to whom it gave unspeakable comfort, that she 
knew where her son had died, and that he had re- 



A NEW ENGLAND SOLDIER. 405 

memberedlier, and fell so calmly to sleep.* Howgi'eat 
is the debt of gratitude we owe such a mother ! She 
gave her all, and now sits a lonely, desolate weeper: 
her sun has gone down while it is yet noon-day. 

Alongside of Thomas Virtue was lying a !N'ew 
England soldier, very badly wounded ; he was in 
great pain; he called me to him. "Sir," said he, 
"I perceive that you are a clergyman; I am very 
glad you have found us ; I have no words to tell you 
what I have suffered, but my anxiety of mind has 
greatly increased my misery; I was afraid that I 
should die, and no one would be able to tell my wife 
and family where." He then told me that he was 
from Bedford, Massachusetts ; that he had, at the 
commencement of the war, been settled as a farmer 
in his native town, and was doing well, and Provi- 
dence smiled on him in everything ; that his wife 
was one of the best of women ; and God had 
given him three children, and they were dearer to 
him than life ; his home was all that he could have 
desired, and more than he ever expected to find on 
earth. The strength of the ties that bound him to 
his family caused him to hesitate many days before 
he could seriously consider his duty ; but at length 
he began to feel that the interests at stake were more 
valuable than his life, and he resolved that, with the 
consent of his wife, he would enlist. After much 
hesitation, and many tears, she at length yielded to 
the conviction that it was their duty to their country 
and children to make the sacrifice. The sorrow and 



* Mrs. Virtue is a member of the church of the Rev. Dr. J. 
Dales, of Philadelphia, one of the most comforting and commis- 
serate of Christian ministers. 



406 A NEW ENGLAND SOLDIER. 

anguisL. he felt in leaving never could be told, but 
he had borne it because he knew he was doing right. 
During all the weary months of absence, the hope 
of return sustained him, and he counted the days 
until he should be again at home. But when he 
was wounded in the battle of Glendale, and gave up 
for many days the hope of living, the sorrow he felt 
at the thought of leaving forever those whom he 
loved, was a greater suffering than his wounds. But 
during those long, painful, and wretched days, God 
had mercifully upheld him ; and it added much to 
his distress, that he could find no one whom he 
knew, and would listen with sympathy to his story. 
It had been his great anxiety to find some one who 
would promise him that his wife should be made 
acquainted with the facts in the history of his last 
days. I assured him that I would consider it a 
sacred duty to write to his wife, and whatever his 
fate, I would do so. But I had hope that he might 
live ; his arm was, indeed, very badly wounded and 
broken, but his constitution was good, and I thought 
he might live, and believed he would. With many 
tears he thanked me for the words of comfort, and 
said that, since I had promised to write to his family, 
he felt relieved, and if he never should meet me on 
earth, that in heaven he would thank me. I soon 
found Dr. Churchill, and interested him in the case. 
He examined the arm, washed it, removed the thou- 
sand larvse, and applied wet bandages ; and in the 
course of a few moments we had the satisfaction of 
seeing a faint smile of hope gleam on the face of the 
soldier, and when I bade him farewell in the even- 
ing he was tranquil, resigned, and even hopeful. I 



LETTER FROM ALVAH COTTON. 407 

never saw Mr. Cotton again ; that evening be, with 
all lying at the depSt, were taken back to Savage 
Station. 

At the battle of Bull Run I lost all the papers 
and memoranda I had brought from Richmond, and 
was not able to recall the name of the town and 
regiment of my friend, but subsequently, when I 
recovered my lost portfolio, I immediately wrote to 
Mrs. Cotton, fearing that she was a widow, and 
that I would be the first to make known to her the 
certainty of her great misfortune ; but rarely have I 
met with anything in my life that gave me greater 
satisfaction than the receipt of the following letter : 

" Boston, Fehruanj, 1863. 

"Dr^,r Sir: — It is with pleasure that I attempt 
to answer your kind letter, which reached us a few 
days ago. I have thought of you many times, and 
wondered if you were in the land of the living. I 
was happy to learn you was released as a prisoner, and 
are again with your regiment. God has seen fit, in His 
great goodness, to spare my life, and I am now en- 
joying a good degree of health. Could I see you, 
I would like to tell you all I passed through after I 
saw you ; but time will not permit. After I saw you 
at Richmond I was taken to our boats on the James 
River. The next Saturday, I think, when I got to 
Fortress Monroe, I was taken to a hospital there ; I 
then telegraphed to my wife, and she came t-o me 
there ; we were then sent to ISTew York, where my 
left arm was amputated ; I then remained there until 
I received my discharge from the service, which was 
received the 14th of November, I was very weak, 



408 LETTER FROM ALVAH COTTON. 

and the doctors thought, for a longtime, my case was 
a very doubtful one ; but the great Physician of the 
soul and body healed me. Thanks be to His name. 
What could I have done, had I not had that Anchor 
to cling to. 

" After I saw and talked with you I felt a great 
relief, for I thought my dear friends would then 
know something about me, if I should die. Had I 
died there, your letter would have been the first in- 
telligence received concerning me. I thank you for 
your kindness, and hope and pray that you may be 
shielded from every danger, and see a rich reward 
for your labors. I am now a messenger in the State 
House, in this city. I live in Charlestown, Cottage 
street, No. 14. Should you ever visit the city, I 
would be very happy to have you call. My wife 
wishes to express her thanks to you for the great 
kindness done her. Hoping you may long live to 
be useful, and that I may meet you on the right hand 
of our blessed Lord, 

"I remain your affectionate friend, 

"Alvah Cotton, 

** (Formerly of the 22d Regiment Mass. Volunteers, 
** Company F, Captain Thompson.) 

" The Kev. Dr. Marks, 

" Chaplain 63d Reg't Pa. Vols." 

In a few moments after we reached the dep6t, an 
officer arrived with the order that all the wounded 
men lying in the house should be taken out, and 
the building locked. There were no goods in it, 
not even empty boxes and barrels. Into the rooms 
of this structure had been borne many of the worst 



SERGEANT BRACKEN. 409 

cases of amputation and sickness. Li the house, 
though lying on the hard floor, they were protected 
from the burning sun, the rain-storms, and the damp 
ground. To order them out then was an act of 
malignant cruelty, for not an inch of the building 
was demanded for the purposes of trade. It was in 
vain that Dr. Churchill and myself remonstrated ; 
the order was positive. " The company wished the 
building vacated." We had to lift and bear down 
stairs, at the cost of untold suffering, the men to 
whom the least jar gave a pang of agony, and some 
poor fellows were carried out in their last moments 
to the open street to die. 

In passing from one to another, I found lying 
alongside of a train of box-cars a soldier, over whose 
face was gathered his overcoat. He was so motion- 
less that I stooped down and lifted the covering, 
supposing the man was dead ; but he was alive, and 
one whom I had often seen and ministered to at 
Savage Station. I spoke to him. 

" Is it possible this is you, Sergeant Bracken, and 
still alive?" 

"Yes," said he, "and I cannot express my grati- 
tude to God that you have found me. Oh, how 
sweet, in a place like this, is the voice of a friend ! " 

This young man I had first seen in a tent at 
Savage Station. He was very badly wounded in 
the face, the shoulder, and thigh ; the last was the 
most painful, being a compound fracture, but no 
one would have known, from his voice, that he was 
fatally injured. But he spoke with the manly clear- 
ness and force of a soldier on duty. At my first 
interview he gave me a very intelligent and graphic 
35 



410 SERGEANT BRACKEN. 

account of tlie battle of Mechanicsville, and spoke 
in very high terms of the courage and military pre- 
science of General Meade, and predicted for him a 
bright future. He then said to me that he had no 
expectation of recovery ; that he knew his injuries 
were of a character to forbid hope ; but he was 
not afraid to die ; for years he believed his peace 
had been made with God, and now he knew in 
whom he had trusted. That, as he spent many 
hours entirely alone, he reviewed the past and 
looked into the future ; that, in the review, he had 
many things for which to be very thankful. God 
had given him the best of parents ; he had been 
brought up by them to revere God, and to trust in 
the Redeemer, and their affection had thrown over 
his life a happiness greater than many. 

There had been given him, moreover, the most 
affectionate of brothers and sisters ; and he wished, 
if I ever saw them, to say to them that the memory 
of their affection was always a well spring; and 
that, during his absence in the army, he had looked 
forward with the greatest desire to the time when 
he should return to them again, never to be parted ; 
that there was no society in which he had such 
pleasure as their's. And now, as that hope was 
gone, he wished me to tell them that in death he 
remembered them all with a deeper love than he 
had ever known before ; and he felt that one of the 
greatest enjoyments of heaven would be in meeting 
them and communing with them forever. If I ever 
saw his father and mother, to assure them that he 
had never, for a moment, forgotten their prayers and 
instructions, and their God had not forsaken him ; 



THE GERMAN WOMEN. 411 

that he felt certam the Saviour would comfort them, 
and wipe away their tears, and they would see it 
was all right. 

And never did Christian martyr more calmly speak 
of his end, or more patiently hear his pains. He 
gave me the address of his father ; it was : " Rev. W, 
Bracken, Armagh, Indiana County, Pennsylvania." 

As I now found him, he was suffering greatly 
and had been praying that he might die. His 
wounds had not been dressed for several days ; he 
had been a long time without food ; the annoyance 
from insects, flies, and millions of larvae was un- 
ceasing. "When he told me of all he had sufiered, 
and I comprehended the hopelessness of the future, 
I took his hand in mine, sat down by his side, and 
wept. But he had no tears ; his manliness and faith 
did not forsake him for a moment. He said he had 
no regrets ; these sufferings were but for a moment, 
while the joy of eternal freedom from sorrow and 
pain would be thereby greatly enhanced. He again 
enjoined on me to let his father know where I had 
seen him, and that, to the last, he clung to his Re- 
deemer ; and to say to his brothers and sisters that 
he loved them to the end, and that only a little 
before them he was entering into rest. 

While I was listening to him there came two or 
three German women near to us with some warm 
rye coffee and herb tea. They had with them seve- 
ral small boys, their sons. They passed through the 
crowd, stopping with one and another, and giving a 
cup of beverage and a small cake. The guards 
stormed and ordered them away, but they still were 
happily ignorant of English; "nicht ferstehe," an- 



412 DR. WELLS, 

Bwered every command, and where they ooukl not 
dare to go for them, the little boys were sent. One 
of these came near to us ; I begged a cup of coffee 
for the sergeant, and with the assistance of Mr. 
Wrightman, of Pittsburg, lifted his head and gave 
it all to him. I brought to him some wine from my 
own stores. While I still sat by him, there came 
near to us Dr. Wells, of the 61st 'New York. I in- 
vited him to look at the sergeant ; we unbandaged 
his wounds ; I returned to the prison and brought 
down chloroform and turpentine, and with these the 
doctor thoroughly cleared away and destroyed the 
tormentors. The doctor remained with the sergeant 
three-fourths of an hour; washed and placed fresh 
lint and bandages on each wound, and in the pro- 
gress of his most self-denying labors became deeply 
interested in his patient. His fortitude, patience, 
and gratitude all convinced the doctor that Mr. 
Bracken w^as no ordinary man. 

I have not met Dr. Wells since those memorable 
days, and know^ not where he may now be, but I 
rejoice to say that he is one of the most humane 
and self-sacrilicing of surgeons. His ear was open 
to every moan of pain, and when exhausted and 
fainting, he would rouse himself to relieve another 
sufferer. 

About three o'clock p.m., I returned to where the 
sergeant was lying. He was greatly relieved, and said 
that he thought with proper care he might recover. 
I commended him to God, and bade him farewell, 
promising to come down in the morning. 

During the night all those wounded men were 
placed in the cars and taken back to Savage Station. 



LETTER FROM MR. BRACKEN. 413 

I made inquiry of many soldiers whom I subse- 
quently met in regard to Sergeant Bracken, and 
gathered from all that he died at Savage Station, 
three or four days after his return. 

After the recovery of my memoranda, I wrote to 
Mr. Bracken, at Armagh, and received the follow- 
ing reply, which I subjoin, because it will give addi- 
tional interest to the memorial I desire to erect in 
honor of one of the best of son's and noblest of 
soldiers : 

"Armagh, Ooiober 4th, 1862, 

" Rev. and Dear Sir : — We received yours of the 
8th of September this afternoon, and I now gladly 
reply. You say you saw our dear son, Watson E.. 
Bracken. That is the first we have heard of him 
since the memorable battle of the 30th of June. 
One of his company, a messmate, fought in the same 
regiment, though not their own, that day, but they 
were separated in the fight, and that is the last we 
could hear from him. His captain, A. J. Bolar, sent 
us several letters before that fight, always speaking 
in high commendation of Watson, as one in whom 
he could confide, and he with others of his com- 
pany, in their letters of condolence, gave the most 
satisfactory accounts of his conduct as a Christian 
and a soldier, so that you are borne out in the opin- 
ion you kindly express "that he was a man." Oh, he 
was a faithful, dutiful son, a kind-hearted and afiec- 
tionate brother, and devoted to the cause of God and 
his country, and beloved by all who knew him. We 
are glad, indeed, that you became acquainted with 
him, and thank you kindly that you ministered to 
35* 



414 CONVERSATIONS WITH THE WOUNDED. 

him ill liis sufferings, and tliat you liave made ua 
acquainted with his condition when you saw him. 
May heaven bless those women who pitied him. 
"We thought he was likely to be killed on the battle- 
field, and rather desired that his sufferings might 
not be protracted ; but still it gives us satisfaction to 
know that he still maintained his integrity, and clung 
to the Saviour. Oh, it is worth more than every- 
thing else to have the favor of Him who is touched 
with a feeling of our infirmities, and can administer 
to our wants when earthly helps and friends fail. 
It almost rends our hearts to know that our dear 
"Watson had to suffer so much for want of attention, 
but we submit, believing that He who holds the 
reins of government in his hands is wise and good. 

'' Our son belonged to Company H, Captain A. J. 
Bolar, 12th Eegiment Pennsylvania Reserve Volun- 
teer Corps. 

"And now, dear brother, I subscribe myself, 
though a stranger to you, 

" Your affectionate brother in Christ, 

"William Bracken. 

" The Eev. Dr. Marks, 

♦' Chaplain 63d Reg't. Pa. Vols." 

There were lying on the platform many other 
cases of great interest, and a volume of most touch- 
ing conversation and incident might have been col- 
lected on that day. I find a note made in my 
memoranda of conversations more than usually im- 
pressive with Charles Yolence, of 1st Eeserve Corps, 
Pennsylvania Volunteers; E. S. Perkins, of the 57th 
Pennsylvania; and James M. Shepherd, of the 11th 



PATIENCE OF THE SUFFERERS. 415 

Pennsylvania Reserve Corps. The last named was 
wounded in the chest, and I suppose did not live 
more than two days. In each of these cases, and 
in their words, there was much worthy of perpetual 
record — each one was bearing patiently his suffer- 
ing, and sustained by faith in Him who trod every 
path of human sorrow and pain, in order that we 
might be led to look to Him as our Saviour, and lean 
upon Him as our God. 



416 SUFFERING IN PRISON. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Suffering in Prison — Captain Demraing — Death of Adjutant 
Gaither- — Heroism of Warburton — Haversack of the Bead 
Soldier- — Deathless Love — Sergeant Abbey. 

Thursday, 17th July. — This was a day memora- 
ble for the most oppressive heat; the atmosphere 
appeared to be filled with flame, and many of our 
wounded who had been through exposure for days 
in the open fields, and endured the pain of removal 
from place to place, began to sink, and the mortality 
of the last days of this week was frightfully great. 
The heat of confined rooms — the poisoned air — 
induced fever, gangrene, tetanus, madness, and death. 
The surgeons were destitute of nearly everything 
essential for the relief of our wounded. We had no 
lint, and cotton had to be used ; this imbedded itself 
in the broken flesh, and in its removal tore oft' the 
thread binding the arteries, thus endangering life ; 
for bandages, we had nothing but the coarsest bag- 
ging; of stimulants, we had none; food was dis- 
pensed most capriciously, and in such small quanti- 
ties as only to mock our wants ; all the stores of 
medicines and sanitary goods were exhausted. But 
the sufterings from want did not compare with those 
endured from lying in rooms crowded to sufiTocation, 
from breathing an air so exhausted, that profuse 
streams of sweat burst from ever}^ pore, and the 



CAPTAIN DEM MING. 417 

healthiest panted as if in the last stages of fever, — and 
in dungeons, loathsome beyond description, where 
every breath brought an air more foul and poisonous. 
In some of those chambers all died to whom death 
was possible ; the others lived in defiance of eveiy 
natural law. 

I have mentioned before Captain Demming, of 
the 61st ISTew York, as a very superior and accom- 
plished man, and as having been wounded on Mon- 
day, the 30th of June. Wh'en removed to Eichmond 
his case was hopeful ; when I met him, after the sepa- 
ration of ten days, there had been such an improve- 
ment that I was confident his buoyant spirits and 
fine physique would secure his recovery ; but, after 
being two days in the prison, he began to fail, 
and soon became partially insane, and in his mad- 
ness there was the method of a refined, cultivated, 
and noble nature. Often he would grasp my hand 
in his, trembling, and say, '^ I wish you to stay by 
me, my friend, for I am greatly troubled ; pray for 
me that I may do nothing wrong." Then, again : 
^'Do not detain me now; I see my wife across the 
street, she stands at the door and beckons me ; ex- 
cuse me, I must go to her." Thus he was again 
with one for whom he so fondly yearned, and of 
whose virtues and Christian excellence he had spoken 
to me in terms of the warmest afi'ection. Rarely 
have I seen a stranger for whom I felt a deeper in- 
terest, and when he died there passed from us one 
of the most accomplished men I met in the army. 

On this day, John C. Warburton, of the 5th Penn- 
sylvania Reserves, likewise died. I love to recall 
the name and image of this young man. Captain 



418 HEROISM OF WAEBURTON. 

McCleary, his commander, who was at the same time 
lying badly wounded in the prison, assured me that 
"Warburton was one of the best of soldiers and faith- 
ful of Christians. I had first seen him on the battle- 
field of Glendale ; his left leg was off; and such was 
his cheerfulness and the appearance of the stump, 
that there was every reason to hope in his case. But 
on this day was developed the terrible tetanus, or 
lockjaw; with the fii'st spasm he was aware of his 
doom, and sent for me. He then recounted his pri- 
vate, family, and spiritual history; wrote his will; 
gave most minute directions for the distribution of 
his property; dictated with unbroken calmness 
his last instructions to his widowed mother and 
blessed her, and, with words of affection and faith, 
sought to comfort her. He then prayed that Grod 
would give him strength and patience to endure the 
fierce pains and anguish of the day, and not permit 
one improper word to fall from his lips. In the mo- 
ments of spasm not a groan escaped him, but com- 
pressing his lips, and clasping the cover of the cot, 
his entire frame would tremble for a moment, and 
then he was as calm as before. I had never seen 
such heroic endurance, which not only made him 
deserving of the glory of a martyr, but ennobled 
human nature. He then, in words of unshaken trust, 
committed himself to the Saviour, as one receiving 
the baptism for the dead, and said, " now all is done : 
I have nothing to do but to die." I often returned 
to him during the day and found that the spasms 
were increasing in frequency and violence; but still 
his peace was unbroken, not a cry or moan was 
heard, and except from the convulsive heaving of 



HAVERSACK OF A DEAD SOLDIER. 419 

his frame, no one near him would have known that 
the soldier was dying in the greatest agony. Late 
at night I came to him for the last time, and in his 
moments of ease he assured me there was not a cloud 
nor a fear, but the ''crucified One" was with him. 
Early on the following morning I came again, but 
the cot and sufferer were gone. 

"Where is Warburton ? " I said to N'olan, who 
was lying near. 

" Gone up ! gone up ! " 

''How did he die?" 

" Peaceful to the end : thanking God that his road 
to heaven was so short." 

On one of my visits to his room. Dr. Marsh 
brought to me the haversack of a soldier, who had 
this morning breathed his last. There were in it 
several daguerreotypes, alTew Testament, and a diary. 
This last was a record of camp-scenes and battles, 
and a description of places and officers, of marches, 
and stirring adventure, and showed the writer to be 
a man of excellent sense and education. The record 
w^as continued to the morning of the fatal day of 
Mechanicsville. And there was written on an open 
leaf: 

"Libby Prison, July — : — As you w^ould receive 
the blessing of a dying soldier send this to my bro- 
ther in Canonsburgh, Pennsylvania." 

I went with the doctor to look on the face of the 
departed ; and as we stood by the dead, talked of 
many great truths in regard to human nature that 
we were witnessing in these scenes ; and that the 
affections of the heart were the last things in man 
to die. We had seen men who had lost even the 



420 DEATHLESS LOVE. 

memory of their own names, but everything came 
back to them when we asked of mother, wife, or 
child. We had seen those who had become entirely in- 
sensible to the presence of those around them ; but 
with all the strength and more than the tenderness 
of heart, they talked for hours, with a depth of feeling 
and pathos that moved us to tears, to their beloved 
ones, whom they imagined about them. Those who, 
in the greatest distress and pain, had no tears for 
themselves, but wept abundantly at the thought of 
the distress and anguish that would fall on their 
homes ; that we had seen many so far gone, that no 
question or sound could arouse them until they were 
asked if they had no message for wife or mother, 
and in a moment the eye brightened, the lips moved, 
and the dead was alive again. There was one name 
the dying soldier never heard without being moved. 
That as we had stooped to listen to the last whis- 
per from the lips it was, "■ Oh, that you could say 
to my father and mother that I revered and loved 
them to the last;" or, " Oh, that my wife knew that 
T thought of her, and loved her to the end;" or, 
^' My precious children." That we had often found, 
when the wounded had lost everything, and were 
without shoes, coat, shirt, or pants, they bore with 
them the picture of wife and children. That we 
had often found the letters of wives and mothers 
lying on the bosoms and their daguerreotypes upon 
the faces of dead soldiers. That long absence of 
home and domestic scenes developed aflections, 
which, in the quiet of their previous life, had been 
hidden or unknown. I took charge of the haver- 



DEATH OP ADJUTANT GAITHER. 421 

sack, and bore it with me to the "West, and sent it 
to the living brother. 

Close to Libb}^ Prison there was a large Confederate 
hospital, called the College ; into this we had seen, 
many ladies enter, bearing with them those thou- 
sand delicacies and tempting viands for the sick, 
which only the hand of woman can prepare. But 
not one of these ever spoke to us, or cast even a 
look of compassion toward us. But one lady visited 
our prison ; this was the sister of Major Clitz, who 
was amongst the wounded. His sister, a kindly and 
beautiful woman, was the wife of a General Ander- 
son, in the Confederate Army ; and attended by her 
husband came in nearly every day. But even she 
did not dare to look beyond her brother, or show 
that she felt the slightest pity but for one sufferer. 
Of the clergy of Richmond we never saw one; 
neither did they visit any of our hospitals. Indeed, 
I am convinced that such was the reign of terror in 
Richmond, and so narrowly was every man watched 
by the thousand Government spies, that they did 
not dare, without bringing on themselves censure 
and suspicion, show to the Union soldiers the 
slightest pity. 

On this day Adjutant Gaither died. He began to 
sink very soon after entering the prison, and was 
often revived by the faithful watching of his nurse : 
but, as the day drew to its close, it became evident 
that the sufferer was soon to be at rest. His intellect 
continued unclouded, and his peace was unbroken. 
Often, as I went to his cot, he would say : "I have 
no dread of death, it is but the fate of life. I have 
delightful views of the heavenly world, and my Saviour 
36 



422 SERGEANT ABBEY. 

appears unspeakably lovely." And then he would 
say : '' Remember to write to my father and mother, 
and tell them all. Say to them that I entreat them 
not to grieve for me. I am at rest, and we will soon 
be together forever." About ten o'clock at night 
it became very plain that the dying lamp was in its 
last flicker. He said to me : " I am dying now, lift 
my hands in yours, clasp them together as you have 
done before, and commend my departing soul to 
the Lord Jesus." I did as he directed me, and 
endeavored to lift him up and lay him in the bosom 
of the great Master. I repeated the words of the 
23d Psalm ; he followed me, and repeated a second 
time with emphasis and raised finger: " Yea, though 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, yet 
will I fear no evil : for Thou art with me," etc. 

Just before he departed he repeated the words: 
" 'I have fought a good fight; I have finished my 
course ; I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is 
laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the 
Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that 
day.' And tell my father and mother that I thank 
and bless them, and that I will look and wait for 
them in the kingdom of God;" and while he was 
whispering such words, the bright eye became 
glassy, and over the finely moulded and beautiful 
face settled the solemn grandeur of death ; and he 
who had been a moment before with us was a com- 
panion of angels and a son of God. 

In the same room of Libby was lying a most in- 
teresting young man. Sergeant Abbey, of the 20th 
Indiana. He was most tenderly nursed by a young 
man of the same regiment, "John Tappan." The 



SERGEANT ABBEY. 423 

sergeant had been wounded in the battle of Glen- 
dale, and lingered until July 20th, and died in great 
peace. He did not suffer much pain, and therefore 
could give more attention to preparation for death. 
He exhibited the deepest religious earnestness, and 
the most fervent desire to know the truth and trust 
in it. He manifested a strong wish to partake of 
the communion, and thus, on this side of the grave, 
acknowledge the Redeemer as "his Lord and his 
God." And in this I intended to gratify him, but I 
was sent away from Richmond in the midst of my 
labors, and at an unexpected moment. He died 
peacefully and safely. 



424 PRISONERS LEAVING RICHMOND 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

The continuance of Scenes in Libby Prison — Orders to depart 
from Richmond — Scenes on Saturday Morning — Petersburg 

— Major Ker — Conversation at the Depot — Journey to City 
Point — Infamous Conduct of an United States Surgeon — Joy 
of the Prisoners — Report to General Kearney — His Character 

— Conclusion. 

Friday, July 11th. — Early on the morning of this 
day a great number of ambulances and wagons were 
assembled in front of Libby Prison, for the pur- 
pose of removing as many of our wounded as it 
was possible to James Piver, and thence to our 
flag-of-truce steamers. About six hundred were 
placed in the various vehicles : sixteen of our sur- 
geons went with their patients. Most of the officers 
were removed at this time, and it gave to those of 
us who remained the greatest pleasure to see many 
hundreds of wan faces lighted with hope and the 
anticipation of home; and this made them bear, 
without a groan, the pains of removal. I visited, 
during the day, the prisons on Corey street and 
Main street, of which there were three on Corey 
and one on Main. I found that the removal of some 
of their companions in tribulation had given hope 
to all, and they were enduring hunger and pain with 
great patience. 

On this day one of our surgeons came up from 



SURGEONS AT SAVAGE STATION. 425 

Savage Station, and described the suffering there as 
most harrowing and constantly increasing. He said 
that all their stores of ever}^ kind were removed, 
and their requisitions on the Confederate Govern- 
ment received no notice, except the promise of 
speedy parolement ; that the wounded were perish- 
ing in great numbers from the want of suitable 
food ; that they had nothing but flour and maggoty 
bacon ; that all the surgeons were sick, one-half of 
them unable to rise from their beds, and the others 
incapable, fi'om prostration, to attend to even a few 
patients.* Such was the gloomy picture of the 
misery of those we had left behind; and as the 
death of one after another was mentioned, we shed 
scarcely a tear, but rather rejoiced that they at least 
had escaped from the miseries which pressed so 
heavily on the living. 

Amongst the cases of deepest interest in the prison 
was Sergeant "Whitfield, of the 63d Pennsylvania. 
He had been wounded in the battle of Fair Oaks, 
but so far recovered as to return to duty, and bore 
up with the greatest courage until a few days before 
the retreat, when he was prostrated by fever, and 
had to be borne to the hospital. On the approach 
of the enemy, he arose and staggered after our army 

* The surgeons at Savage Station were : Dr. John Swinburne ; 
A. Churchill, 14th New York ; P. Middleton, U. S. A. ; H. H. 
Page, Volunteer Surgeon, U. S. A. ; A. Palmer, Assistant Sur- 
geon 2d Maine ; 0. Munson, Assistant Surgeon New York Vol- 
unteers ; E. J. Marsh, Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A. ; H. J. Schell ; 
W. A. Smith ; A. P. Clark, 87th New York ; G. F. Perkins, 22d 
Massachusetts ; Will Falkner, 83d Pennsylvania ; Fox, Vol- 
unteer Surgeon ; N. Milnor, of Philadelphia, who died of hunger 
and exhaustion ; Sutton, who died of fever. 



426 SERGEANT WHITFIELD. 

for several miles, and then was compelled to yield 
to faintness, lie down, and become a prisoner. 
"When the Confederate Army had passed he dragged 
himself back to Savage Station, and found himself 
again amongst friends. He was now far gone from 
protracted suftering and want, but in the course of 
a few days very much revived, and everything pro- 
mised a speedy recovery. I had him removed from 
Savage Station to Carter's house, in order that he 
might be constantly under my own care. He slowly 
improved until sent up to Richmond. After being 
placed in Libby Prison, the worst symptoms re- 
turned, and on Friday, the 18th, it became plain 
that but a few hours remained to him here. He 
continued, however, vigorous in mind and wakeful. 
When it became manifest that his end was ap- 
proaching, I came to him, and as gently as possible 
broke our fears. He aroused as one from a trance, 
and said : 

" Doctor, do you think I am in great danger ? I 
had not dreamed of this ; I knew that I was very 
ill, but did not fear a fatal termination." 

After further conversation, he calmly said he placed 
himself in the hands of Jesus ; he knew in w^hom he 
had believed. He then took from under his head 
all the mementos of affection which he had borne 
with him: letters, daguerreotypes, etc., etc. He gave 
me his watch, and told me what directions to give 
Mr. Appleton, his brother-in-law, in regard to his 
property. He then placed in my hands one article 
after another ; looked for the last time on the face 
of his betrothed ; for a moment his voice trembled 
with emotion, and then said, '' that tie is broken ; I 



DEATH OF SERGEANT WHITFIELD. 427 

have nothing now but my Saviour. But while I 
am able to speak, let me say to you, doctor, that 
there is no man on earth to whom I owe so much as 
to you ; you taught me, prayed for me, and led me 
to Jesus, and ever since I was baptized in Camp 
Johnson, my peace has been unbroken ; and now, in 
my dying hour, I am cheered by the faith you taught 
me to exercise. I thank you here, and I will thank 
you again in heaven." He then requested me to 
fold his hands, and commit his soul unto God. He 
then stretched out his hand, and bade farewell to 
several companions in sufiering, " until we should 
meet in the kingdom of God." 

From this time he fell into a gentle slumber, which 
continued unbroken until the following morning, 
when he went up from the darkness and misery of 
the prison-house to the glorious palace of the Eter- 
nal King. 

In the afternoon of this day, my friend Dr. Marsh 
came to me, and said : 

" Do you know that N'olan will have to die ? Sec- 
ondary hemorrhage has commenced, and the ends 
of the arteries have sloughed off; it will be impos- 
sible to save him." 

I hastened to the hall where he was lying, and as 
I approached, heard him singing the beautiful hymn : 

" The place of my conversion." 

"When I came to his side I said : " Mr. IN'olan, how 
are you ?" 

"Kever better," said he, "- the doctor thinks I am 
going to die, but he is mistaken. I may never re- 
cover, but I am not to die in Eichmond." 



428 NOLAN'S FAITH IN CHRIST. 

"But you are perfectly willing, Mr. I^^olan, to die 
here, if God wills it?" 

" Oh, yes," said he ; " that matter was settled long 
ago. I have no doubts nor fears; I am my Lord's, 
and He is mine. Why should I doubt His mercy ? 
He has answered me too often to permit me to call 
His love in question. 'No, doctor, I am not to die 
here ; I am to live through this scene and sing God's 
praises on our side. You pray with me, and commit 
me to the Heavenly Keeper, and I am safe." 

I did so, and as I left his side, the Christian sol- 
dier's voice rose clear and sweet in a song of praise. 

Li the evening I again approached his cot, and 
found that the bleeding had ceased ; he had rallied. 

"Doctor," said he, "I shall live to go out of this 
place. God has heard my prayer, and will not per- 
mit me to die here." 

And as I bade him farewell for the night, and 
stopped by the couch of another sufferer, ISTolan filled 
the room with the beautiful melody of the hymn : 

" The Christian's home iu glory." 

I never saw him again. That night I was ordered 
away from Eichmond, and supposed that i^olan was 
buried in the aceldema of the Rebel capital. But 
at Centreville, on the Sabbath after the second bat- 
tle of Bull Run, a soldier spoke to me in a hospital, 
and said: 

" Sir, I saw you in Richmond, and have a message 
for you ; you remember IsTolan, the singer, and good 
Christian?" 

" Yes ; well, what of him ? " 

" He lived to be taken away from Richmond ; we 
were in the same hospital at Fortress Monroe ; he 



DEATH OF NOLAN AT WASHINGTON. 429 

was still joyful, and singing his hymns to comfort 
the wounded men and dying. He told me to tell 
you, if I ever saw you, that he had lived to be taken 
from the Libby Prison, and continued to rejoice in 
God, his Saviour." 

Seldom has anything occurred in my life that gave 
me greater gratification, in that wretched scene of 
confusion, anarchy, and death; it was a beautiful 
flower in the barren desert. 

I subsequentl}^ learned from another friend, that 
Mr. !N"olan lived to be removed to Washington, and 
died in one of the hospitals of that city. 

May we not hope that many learned from him the 
value of that faith which lifted above all human 
weakness, and gave him peace and triumph in suffer- 
ing and death? 

I was in one of the upper rooms of the prison, 
after night of this day, when I heard some one call 
aloud from the head of the stairs : 

" Chaplain Marks ! Chaplain Marks ! " 

I answered, and appeared before the Confederate 
officer. 

"Sir," said he, "you are ordered to be ready to 
leave Richmond to-morrow morning, at four o'clock." 

" "Where am I to be sent, sir ? " 

" That I cannot tell, but I suppose to James River, 
to your flag-of-truce steamer." 

" I have not requested to be sent away : I came 
voluntarily with these wounded men, and I wish to 
remain with them until they are released, or die. I 
have sent no petition to General Winder to be re- 
leased. Our physicians and nurses are but few now, 
and some of these are sick ; I think I can be of ser- 



430 DEPARTURE FOR PETERSBURa. 

vice to tliese sufferers, and should prefer remaining 
a few days longer." 

*' Doctor," said the officer, ^' I know nothing about 
the intention of General Winder in ordering you off, 
but this I will say for your good, what he commands 
you to do, obey instantly ; send no petition to him, 
ask no favor of him ; and let me tell you, if you are 
not off' to-morrow morning, it will be a long time 
before you w^ill have another opportunity ; there will 
be something hatched up against you, and you will 
be treated as a dangerous man, or a spy. You had 
better go ; take my advice." 

I thanked him, went into Captain Turner's office, 
and found that orders had been received to remove 
me from the prison, and place me under guard for 
Petersburg. 

On Saturday morning, at three o'clock, I was up 
and dressed, and ready to start, and by a mere acci- 
dent was able to save most of my baggage. When 
I reached the depot, the light of the morning ena- 
bled me to see distinctly the faces of hundreds of 
wounded men — mothers, fathers, officers, and ser- 
vants. There was a great multitude of broken, hag- 
gard-looking sufferers helped along by the crowd of 
friends, or borne by on stretchers, and with groans, 
tears, cries, and shrieks were lifted and placed in the 
cars. It required a heart of adamant to be indif- 
ferent to the misery of such a spectacle. 

I was put under the care of General Winder's As- 
sistant Adjutant-general. This young man was 
courtly and most generous in bearing. I was seated 
in the cars alongside of an officer of the Confederate 
Army, who told me that his home was near Wil- 



ARRIVAL AT PETERSBURG. 431 

liamsburg ; lie was an intelligent and gentlemanly 
man, and talked without any bitterness. He said the 
first families of Virginia all monrned the loss of many 
relatives ; that to the officers of the army it had been 
very fatal, and there had gradually grown up an 
intense hatred toward the North, which would 
render a return to the Union impossible ; that when 
the war first commenced they despised and loathed 
the Yankees, but they had no such feeling to the men 
of New Jersey and Pennsylvania ; that now they knew 
no difl'erence ; that the women and children were 
even more hostile to us than the men ; that his boys 
of ten and twelve years of age could, with difficulty, 
be held at home; that they were daily practising with 
pistols and rifles, in order that they might be able 
to shoot the Yankees. He said if they should be 
conquered, not a single honorable person would re- 
main in the South ; that they would all prefer pov- 
erty and exile to submission to an enemy whom they 
hated and despised. I listened to him, and after a 
time turned the conversation to themes more grate- 
ful to both of us. He said their loss had been immense 
at Malvern Hill : it was a slaughter-pen ; they never 
would have walked into it, if Lee had commanded. 
We reached Petersbui-g, which is not more than 
twenty-five miles from Eichmond, about seven 
o'clock, A. M. There was an immense throng of re- 
latives and friends around the depot, waiting for the 
arrival of the wounded, and there were many most 
tender and affecting scenes. I often stood trans- 
fixed, a spell-bound spectator of the joy and grief, 
tears, and eloquent demonstrations of affection — 
their dead were alive again, and their lost found. 



432 MAJOR KER, OF PETERSBURG. 



I remarked that my evident sympathy did not, for 
a moment, thaw into gentleness toward a hated 
stranger; but when they looked at me, even in their 
tears, in a moment there came the scowl of anger 
over their faces. They were children in emotion, 
but mature in passion and pride. 

Petersburg is one of the most beautiful cities of 
Virginia, situated at the head of Appomatix Bay, 
about twelve miles from James River. It is lo- 
cated on the hills surrounding this sheet of water ; 
the streets are wider and cleaner than most Southern 
towns ; many of the residences are elegant, and en- 
compassed with objects of beauty and works of 
art. The inhabitants of the higher streets were 
evidently intensely aristocratic, and felt that no com- 
mon blood flowed in their veins. Eveiything indi- 
cated that Petersburg had been very prosperous pre- 
vious to the war. It is surrounded with one of the 
finest tobacco-growing regions in Virginia. 

My friend, the adjutant, conducted me to Major 
Ker, who was Military Governor of Petersburg, and 
surrendered me into his hands. The major was very 
polite ; he is a man of military bearing, having been 
for many years an army officer in the United States 
service. He directed me to return to the hotel, and 
that in the course of the day he would call for me, 
and place me on the train for City Point. I took 
occasion to walk through the streets ; many of the 
houses were closed, and apparently abandoned ; 
silence and gloom reigned everywhere ; most of the 
ladies, indeed every one of respectability, were robed 
in mourning ; almost every face wore the look of 
Borrow and despair; not a well, strong man, except 



REBEL HATRED OF P E N N S Y L V ANI AN S . 433 

the military, could be seen in tlie streets; all the 
others were blind, deaf, walking on crutches, arm- 
less, or shaking with palsy. Even in such stores 
as were open, not a n^n able to bear arms was found 
behind the counters . the persons engaged in busi- 
ness were old men, boys, and women. I was per- 
mitted, without molestation, to walk several hours 
around the city. I was fully aware that here, as in 
Richmond, a spy was ever in sight, and every word 
was noted, and every act watched. But, as they gave 
me unusual liberty, a sense of honor constrained me 
not to take advantage of it, and to ask no questions. 
I met at the hotel Major Wood, of a loyal Kentucky 
regiment ; he had been taken prisoner, and confined 
in Richmond, and now paroled, was on his way to 
James River. He was a fine-looking man, afiable 
and communicative to me, but could not be drawn 
into conversation by any of the Rebel officers or 
citizens. 

About two o'clock, p.m.. Major Ker came to the 
hotel, and requested me to walk down to the depot. 
I went with him. While we were waiting here for 
a train coming from Richmond, the major asked me 
of my State. He then went on to say, "that Penn- 
sylvania was the birth-place of his father ; and that 
once the Southern people had a high regard for that 
State, but now felt as hostile, and even more so, to 
Pennsylvanians, than to genuine Yankees, for they 
had been disappointed in us. They had expected 
that we would have too much pride and principle to 
be dragged into this war by the selfish and scheming 
N'ew Englanders. But now they had lost all confi- 
dence in us." 
3T 



434 CONVERSATION AT THE DBpOt. 

"Major," I replied, "you are an old army officer, 
and, therefore, I have no doubt seen service in the 
Northern States as well as the Southern, and you 
are familiar with the views and desires of the people 
of the free States, and must know this war was 
forced upon us. We had not been for years threat- 
ening hostilities and the division of the Union. We 
made the largest concession to the South. We 
yielded, in the spirit of compromise and for peace, 
everything you asked. We had no taste for war, the 
genius of our people did not run in that direction. 
The very thought of civil war was dismissed from 
our minds as a hideous dream, and no man amongst 
us dared to predict such a national calamity. But 
for years i/ou had been preparing the public mind 
of the South for this very day by prophesying war ; 
by urging your people to prepare for it. Even ^our 
schools were military academies ; and ^our children 
were educated to look with the most ardent desire 
for the hour when they might draw their swords 
upon us, compel greater concessions, or secure the 
glory of illustrious deeds in arms. But such, you well 
know, major, was not the spirit of our people. We 
felt that in peace was our greatness, and that all the 
institutions we most dearly prized flourished under 
its shadow. You forced this war upon us, major, 
and having commenced it, you must take all the 
consequences." 

"And we are ready to take them," said the major. 
" The people of the South will never demean them- 
selves so far as to be associated with a people who 
have robbed us, wasted our country, burned our 
homes, stolen our negroes, and slain our sons. 



CONVEKSATION AT THE DEP6t. 43f^ 

!Never ! never ! may I die first ! If the South ever 
submits to you, it will be as a desert. I have, for 
my part, reached that stage now, that I desire to 
take no prisoners. This war must be one of exter- 
mination. I never read in the papers of prisoners 
being taken without a sigh. I want to see no more 
of you except in battle, or as dead men. This may 
sound to you as savage and brutal ; but we have borne 
until endurance is no longer a virtue, indeed, it is now 
a crime. You have robbed us of everything ; we are 
living in a poverty almost equal to that of the root- 
digging Indians. Every day our dead are brought 
to us. You are shutting us out from the whole 
world ; publishing all manner of infamous slanders 
in regard to us ; branding us as traitors, and con- 
fiscating our homes. Our wrongs are as great as 
were ever endured even by the martyrs. Our patience 
is exhausted, and the strongest desire we have now 
is for revenge, and we will have it." 

During this conversation, there had gathered 
around us a large number of gentlemen and officers 
of the Confederate army. The words of the major 
stimulated several of them to frenzy, and they turned 
and glared upon me with the fiercest anger. 

"Yes," said one, who, I afterward learned, was 
a grandson of the great Samuel Davies, and himself 
a lawyer of the highest respectability, and an elder 
in the Presbyterian church of which the Rev. Dr. 
Plumer was formerly pastor — ''yes," said he, "I 
fully endorse, and with all my heart, all that the 
major has said. I am too old to be drafted, but I 
am going into the army this fall, and will have the 
gratification of killing one Yankee before I die. I 



436 CONVERSATION AT THE DEpOt, 

am for taking no prisoners ; we have been too gentle 
and merciful." 

At this moment loud and vehement were the words 
of the bitterest scorn and rage which were poured 
out from the lips of the men of even grey hairs. 
With one voice they exclaimed : '' l^o, we are done 
with war upon humane and civilized principles; 
we are for the knife and the death." Their words 
increased the excitement, until many were livid 
with rage, and others tossed to and fro with a 
frenzy beyond control. I placed my back against 
the wall, and calmly surveyed the spectacle. A 
noble, humane-looking ITorth Carolina colonel edged 
his way through the crowd, and placed himself 
alongside for my protection. Major Ker was soon 
ashamed of the storm he had created; lifting his 
voice above the din he made himself heard, re- 
minding the crowd that Dr. Marks was a prisoner, 
and much that had been said was ungenerous and 
unbecoming. 

"But, doctor," said he, turning and looking me 
in the face, " go home and preach peace, and you 
will be a great deal better employed than marching 
and fighting with those cursed legions who have in- 
vaded us." 

All eyes turned on me, expecting my answer. 
"Major," I said, "all that you and your friends 
have uttered here has greatly surprised me ; listen- 
ing, as I have done, the question has arisen in my 
mind, 'Are they Christians?' Have they rejected 
all the teachings of the great Master, who has 
taught us to love our enemies, to forgive, as we 
hope to be forgiven, and to return good for evil ? I 



CONVERSATION AT THE DEpOt. 48T 

most solemnly assure you that I never heard such 
sentiments in the I^orth. We think you have done 
wrong, and we take up arms to defend the Consti- 
tution and laws of the land ; but toward you, per- 
sonally, we have no feeling of bitterness. In all the 
public meetings I have attended l^orth, and in all 
assemblages in the army, I have never heard one of 
our men speak as you have done to-day. And as 
for preaching '■peace,'' what shall I say? Shall I 
say you have repented of your errors, and are dis- 
posed to lay down your arms ? Shall I say that all 
you ask is your independence ? I have heard it inti- 
mated that you want much more than this. What 
shall I say as coming from you? " 

''Say," one replied, ''that our negroes must be 
restored to us, or paid for ; that all debts incurred 
during this war shall be paid by the United States ; 
that half the territories are to be ours ; that the 
Border States, Missouri, Kentucky, and Maryland, 
are to be left free to choose the Confederacy or the 
old Union, as the majority shall determine." 

" Very well, gentlemen," I replied, " let me assure 
you, peace on those terms is an impossibility. Had 
you taken Baltimore and Washington City, Phila- 
delphia and l^Qw York, such demands might be 
reasonable ; but every one of these concessions forced 
from us would be the cause of another war. ]N^o, 
you ask everything and concede nothing. We must 
pay all your debts, hunt your negroes, give up to 
the jail and the gallows the loyal men of the Border 
States, give you the Mississippi, and allow you to im- 
prison or drive into exile the inhabitants of Western 
Virginia. Peace on such terms would cover us with 
37* 



438 JOURNEY TO CITY POINT. 

perpetual shame. E'o, gentlemen, peace is of great 
value to us, but it would be the greatest curse if 
purchased on your terms ; for we would stand before 
the world degraded, and transmit to our children 
the heritage of shame. Be assured that if I should 
go ]^orth, and be so foolish as to be the advocate 
of peace on the basis you ask, I should not be bowie- 
knifed, ridden on a rail, nor hung to a lamp-post. 
They would not even honor me with a riot ; but I 
should be pitied as a man whom the miseries of 
Libby Prison had bereft of reason, and whose friends 
would consign to a lunatic asylum." 

The whistle of the train from Richmond called 
away, in the midst of the conversation, those who 
were looking for wounded sons and brothers. Only 
two persons, one an officer from I^orth Carolina, 
and the other a citizen, lingered to express their 
sorrow that such a scene of vindictiveness should 
disgrace them, and to assure me that all did not 
partake of the malignant animosity that had been 
expressed. 

The train containing the Federal wounded did 
not arrive until after two p. m. In this were eight 
hundred men, on their way to James River for our 
transports. The rail track to City Point runs along 
the banks of the Appomatix, through fruitful fields, 
and a land then smiling and green. As we ap- 
proached James River, we came to many encamp- 
ments of Confederate brigades. The most of these 
troops had recently arrived from the South and West, 
and had not been engaged in the recent battles. In 
order that they might see us and enjoy the spectacle, 
the train halted eveiy mile; and thousands of long- 



JOY OF THE PRISONERS. 439 

haired, dark-featured men gathered around us. In- 
numerable were their questions, and firm their con- 
viction that the war v/as over; they were most 
anxious to wring from our officers the confession of 
defeat, and that we participated in their expectation 
of peace. 

When we reached the shore, the entire scene was 
quiet and beautiful. The rays of the setting sun were 
falling gently, after a day of tropical heat, on the hills 
west of James River. The placid stream, the sleeping 
islands, the dark wooded shore, the radiant glow of 
the heavens reflected in the waters, the serene repose 
of all nature, brought the highest enjoyment to 
those who for weeks had gasped in prisons, and 
drank in the air of pestilence and death. 

Many of those tottering, haggard men, when they 
were lifted from the cars, and saw in the river our 
noble steamers, and flying aloft the Stars and Stripes, 
shed tears of gratitude; others fell on their knees, 
and thanked God for their deliverance ; others said 
to one another, " I have never felt the old flag so 
dear to us as now, and we were never so willing to 
die for our country as now." ''We know now the 
spirit of the men we have to deal with." In a few 
moments those able to walk staggered and limped 
to the space in front of the Vanderbilt. Those 
who were more ill were borne on stretchers. There 
were arranged on the shore several Confederate 
officers, and two or three of our Government, in 
whose presence the name of each man was written, 
and he subjected to such examination as was deemed 
essential for the satisfaction of the Richmond repre- 
sentatives. Of these last we had no reason to com- 



440 DR. WATSON. 

plain ; they were considerate and humane. But the 
conduct of Dr. Watson, the surgeon in charge of 
the Vanderhilt, was in the highest degree ungentle- 
manly and rude. In order to display "his entire 
impartiality," he seized every possible opportunity 
to snub, abuse, and insult our men. [N'ever, in the 
course of my experience in my own country and in 
foreign lands, have I seen an officer of any govern- 
ment behave in a manner so dastardly and brutal. 
The whiskey must have been unusually bad to have 
developed so many loathsome traits. After the 
work of the parolement was finished, though there 
were many men on the boat dying, and others so 
exhausted that the least noise brought to them 
torture, yet Dr. Watson took the Confederate officers 
up to his state-room, and for hours, even until long 
after midnight, there were perpetrated the most in- 
decent and barbaric orgies ; shoutings, stampings, 
yells, songs, and toasts, gave variety to the exercises, 
and cemented the bonds of friendship. 

I was grateful to the officer who assured me that 
Dr. Watson was not an American, and I should 
have been more grateful if he could have convinced 
me he did not belong to the human race. On the 
following morning, Sabbath, the 20th of July, we 
dropped down to Harrison's Landing ; and in the 
course of a few hours I was in the midst of the men 
from whom I had been separated through many 
eventful days. We had so much to say, so many 
mquiries to make, that it seemed we had been parted 
for years. 

I soon reported myself to General Kearney, and 
was received with the most flattering expressions of 



REPORT TO GENERAL KEARNEY. 441 

regard. He made me detail in full all I had seen 
and heard in Richmond, all my experiences in the 
hospitals of the field and in the lines of the Rebel 
army. He expressed the deepest sympathy for our 
poor wounded soldiers, and asked by name for many 
ofiicers ; his whole manner was that of a man of 
heart. 

From this time I had no personal intercourse with 
General Kearney, until the fatal day of Chantilly. 
While the army was yet at Centreville, I entered 
his room to obtain permission to visit the wounded 
at Fairfax Station. This, without a moment's hesi- 
tation, he granted, and urged me to remain with 
him for a few moments ; during the course of our 
conversation he spoke of the causes which led to 
the disastrous defeat of the previous Saturday, and 
then of the spirit which animated the South. For 
the first time in our intercourse he spoke on the 
subject of religion. He regretted that it had been 
so little his study, but said his knowledge of the 
world and experience taught him that the only hope 
of the future was in the gospel of our Lord, and 
that everything else would signally fail in producing 
peace on earth and good-will amongst men. He 
said the scenes in which we were living more deeply 
impressed him with the value of the teachings of 
the Bible. 

We parted, and in the sanguinary struggle of the 
evening General Kearney fell, and with him a thou- 
sand hopes for the country and the army. He was 
a man of far more talent than many have been 
willing to concede to him. While ardent and im- 
pulsive, he was capable of the most wily caution ; 



442 CONCLUSION. 

while often stern and withering in rebuke, he was 
generous and forgiving, and though ambitious, he 
was above all low, mean jealousies. Xo officer in 
the ai-my was more laborious and sleepless ; his keen 
eye was everywhere ; and with an energy that never 
faltered, he corrected every abuse, and fully investi- 
gated everything that pertained to the discipline 
and well-being of his division. If he had lived, his 
brilliant and chivalrous qualities would have won 
for him a very high place in the admiration and 
gratitude of his country. 

In a few days afterwards the army was recalled 
from the Peninsula and sent to reinforce General 
Pope on the Rappahannock, and with this move 
ended a campaign which has scarcely a parallel in 
human history, if we consider the splendor and mag- 
nitude of its commencement, the sufierings and 
heroic endurance of its progress, and the disasters 
which darkened its close. Many of the causes which 
led to a termination so unpropitious are palpable, 
but others are yet to be revealed from the secret 
history of councils of war and political conclaves. 
Every year will pour increasing light on the dark- 
ness of that past, but, alas ! will not shed a ray of 
comfort on the homes which are made desolate, nor 
bring back one of our dead from unknown graves. 

The subsequent history of the Army of the Poto- 
mac properly ranges itself under the history of those 
ever-memorable campaigns which followed. 



u 



APPENDIX. 



After relating the scene in the jail at Yorktown, and the lan- 
guage of one of the slaves to my estimable young friend, G. B. 
Patch, of Washington city, in a short time I was gratified to 
receive from him a song, arranged in form and shaped into 
poetical symmetry ; and I am glad to subjoin it here : 

I. 

\ Come, children — bless de Lord for heaven, 

De negro's happy home, 
For there no storm, no angry cloud, 

No dark night eber come ; 
There ebery tree and ebery bush, 

Grows eber fresh and green, 
And there no chilly, biting frost 

Upon de grass is seen. 

CHORUS. 

Come children ob de morning ob de Lord — 
^ I long to go to heaven in de morning, 

I hope to go to heaven in de morning, 
0, de morning ob de Lord! 

Come, children — bless de Lord for heaven, 
\ For there de birds sing gay; 

And there de sweetly laughing flowers 
Do neber fade away ; 
; There all de long and changing year 

Is but de month ob June, 
And there de voices and de harps 

Be neber out of tune. 
CHORUS. — Come children ob de morning, etc. 

(448) 



\ \ 



444 APPENDIX. 



III. 



Come, children — tell me, if you can, 

How goes poor negro there? 
Oh! I will tell you: — he must go 

By faith and humble prayer ; 
Prayer 's de key ob de door ob heaven, 

And this will let him in ; 
But there 's a bar will shut him out, 

De mighty bar ob sin. 

CHORUS. — Come children ob de morning, ete. 

IV. 

Come, poor sinners — look to Jesus, 

For he will take de key, 
And break de bars and ope de doors, 

And lead in you and me. 
Bless de Lord for Jesus, Jesus, 

Who died for you and me, 
"We shall meet Him, if we serve Him, 

At de morning jubilee. 

CHORUS. — Come children ob de morning, etc 



THE END. 



